Wednesday's Child
by Tail Kinker
Summary: A traumatic change shatters Ranma's world view, and forces him to re-evaluate his life. His new path will take him all over the globe, and even to the stars beyond...Rated M for occasional harsh language and adult themes.
1. Prologue: A Shattering of Shop Windows

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Prologue: A Shattering Of Shop Windows**

**

* * *

21 June, 1996**

"I thought you were the apolitical type, Ranma." Akane was walking backwards, the better to talk to her husband.

Ranma snorted. "Apolitical. Generally speakin', Akane, I'd say you're just about right there. Politics don't mean squat to me, really."

"But you really tore a strip out of Daddy."

"You mean about those anti-unification guys?" Ranma shrugged. "We live in a democracy, right? So everyone's got a right to say what they please. But the government has decided that Japan is joinin' the United Earth Government, and the people elected that government. So they had their say."

"That's what Daddy said." Akane grinned.

"No, he said that the people who oppose the UEG should all be rounded up as traitors. I don't agree. There's other countries that are not joinin'. They can always move there."

"Just kick them out?"

"Look, Akane." He sighed. "I'm a firm believer in live an' let live, all right? These guys don't agree with joinin' a world government. Fine. That's their choice, and I don't think we should be pressurin' them into it. But the government of Japan is responsible for the islands, and they've chosen to join. That's just the way it is, and I don't think that they should kick against it. Ya can't fight city hall, right?"

"Do you agree with Japan joining?"

"Not really." He shrugged. "I don't think that a planet-wide government will be better. But I grew up around small villages that were largely self-governing. Most times, they were technically under the control of a larger government, but me and Pops found many villages that weren't bothered by the Japanese government, or the Chinese government."

"You're not making a whole lot of sense here."

Ranma sighed, and sat down on a nearby bench. "Look, I'm just sayin' that people should be free to do what they want. If they don't want to be under this umbrella government, then they should not be. Fine. No problems. But the anti-unification groups in Japan are tryin' to force those people who want unification to not have it, and the pro-unification groups - includin' the government - are tryin' to force unification on those who don't. There's gotta be some kinda compromise."

"Compromises never make anyone happy." She sat down next to her husband. "Would you have accepted a compromise involving me, Shampoo and Ukyo?"

He shook his head. "No. Maybe not a compromise, but...Damn. Politics is all confusin'."

Akane giggled. "Maybe you should stick to martial arts."

"Guess so."

"And on that note..." Akane jumped up from her seat. "I'd better get the groceries. Kasumi won't be happy if we're late with them." She paused, and glanced over her shoulder. "And actually, I've gotta get some stuff from the shop over here."

Ranma looked up. "Which shop? Oh, the lingerie shop. Okay, I'll be right here when you get back."

She giggled. "Not coming in with me? I'm sure you could use an item or two as well, for when you're in girl form. I'll find you some cold water."

"Forget it!" He scowled. "Nabiki will just wanna take pictures of me in it."

"Spoilsport." She turned and walked across the street. Ranma leaned back in the bench and sighed.

_Bein' married is just about as hard as not bein' married._ He snorted. _But at least I don't have every girl in Nerima chasin' me anymore. Instead, I got occupational hazards like tryin' to teach the Tomboy to cook, and her tryin' to get me into girls' underwear._

He glanced up as his danger sense pinged. _No loony martial artists, no crazed Amazons, just a guy in a trenchcoat goin' into the store--_ He frowned. _Why's a guy going into_ that _store? In a trenchcoat? Is he a flasher?_

Suddenly, his danger sense went into overdrive, and he jumped to his feet. "Akane--"

The pressure wave hit him first. By definition, the pressure wave of an explosion exceeds the speed of sound. From a large enough explosion, it can be seen, a wall of white sound, billowing out from the target. This explosion was not very large, but Ranma's senses had long been superhuman, and he saw it rippling towards him, slamming him into the chain-link fence alongside the canal.

Next came the shrapnel. Supersonic at first, the fragments had lost speed rapidly due to air resistance. He was pelted with shards of broken glass and splintered wood. His martial arts training had toughened him to casual damage, and neither the pressure wave nor the fragments caused any lasting damage, but he was left crumpled at the base of the fence, bleeding from hundreds of small cuts.

He staggered to his feet, and stared in horror at the burning building.

The building his wife had just entered.

* * *

_"Responsibility for the blast was claimed by the Free Japan Alliance, a group previously known for civil disobedience. Police have been unable to find the leaders of the FJA, but have brought in several members for questioning. Again, six people were killed in a suicide bombing in downtown Nerima--_

* * *

Ranma undid the tie, dropped it on their bed, then shrugged out of the jacket. _Less than a month since I last wore this suit...to our weddin'. She's gone._

He sat down on the bed, dropped his face into his hands.

_All we've been through. I can't believe that something like this could take her from me._

There was a knock at the door. He ignored it, but the door opened anyway.

"Ranma?"

"Yeah, Nabiki?"

She crossed the room, sat down next to him. "How are you doing?"

"How the hell do you think I'm doin'?" He calmed himself. "Sorry, Nabiki. I just--"

"I know." She sighed. "God, it just seemed so...random. I mean, you protected her from princes intent on kidnapping her, random crazy people, even Safuron..."

"I shoulda been able to protect her from this."

"There was no way you could have known."

"But I did. Almost." He looked up. "I saw the guy, and I got the idea that there was somethin' wrong with him. But I figured he was just a pervert, and Akane's good at dealin' with perverts."

"But you--"

"I failed her!" He stood up angrily. "I let her die!"

"You couldn't have known!" Nabiki was yelling at him now. "Dammit, Ranma, you're not a superman. You can't be everywhere. You protected her as best you could, and if you'd tried more, she would have hated it. You know that! Why are you being so hard on yourself?"

"Because protectin' her was my job. Remember?"

"You're angry at yourself because you failed to protect her? Don't be stupid!" Nabiki scowled at him. "Even Daddy doesn't blame you, and you know he'd normally be the first to do so. Be angry at the terrorists, not at yourself."

He calmed himself, and looked at her. "The terrorists?"

"Don't you watch the news? It was the anti-unification terrorists who killed her. They claimed that they sent the suicide bomber."

"Terrorists."

Nabiki took a step back, a look of fear on her face. "Ranma--"

"_They_ killed her."

He turned suddenly, grabbed his pack, and started filling it.

"What are you thinking, Ranma."

"I'm going to get them. I'll make them _pay_."

"Ranma, no." She put a hand on his arm. "You can't go after them yourself. We have police, and soldiers, to do that."

"Good idea." He turned, and hefted the pack. "Nabiki, I'm leavin'. Tell Mom I'll miss her, but I gotta do this before I change my mind."

"Do what?"

"Get revenge. No." He shook his head. "Not revenge. Justice. I can't be a cop. So I'll have to be a soldier."

* * *


	2. Chapter One: The Problem Child

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**One: The Problem Child

* * *

**

**02 August, 1996**

There was a knock at the door, and Colonel Iwahara looked up from the reams of paperwork scattered across his desk. "Come."

The door opened, and Sergeant Fujishima stepped in, snapped off a crisp salute. "Reporting as ordered, Sir."

"Thank you. Please, sit down."

Fujishima sat, removed his beret. "Thank you, Sir. I think I already know the answer, but may I ask why the Colonel requested my presence?"

"I understand, Sergeant, that you have a discipline problem in your outfit. Beat up another recruit."

"Yes, Sir." The sergeant sighed. "Recruit Private Saotome."

"Well, please, fill me in."

"First off, Sir, I'd like to state that the kid is a goddamn genius." The sergeant grinned. "You gotta show him the right way of doing something precisely once, never more, and he gets it right every time after that. He follows orders crisply and to the letter, with no backtalk."

"Doesn't sound like a discipline problem to me."

"Well, I do have to admit that he didn't start out that way."

* * *

"I am Instructor Sergeant Fujishima Takeshi." The man was not overly large, but his muscles stood out in stark relief under the simple white T-shirt. His beret had three chevrons and two rockers, the only rank markings he wore. Khaki shorts and desert boots completed his ensemble; his bronzed skin was only a shade lighter than the shorts.

"I am giving you my name only because I think that it may interest you to know it. No doubt you will be appending curses to it before long. I am already familiar with my ancestry and habits; you need not bore me with your speculations. From hereon in, however, you will refer to me only as Sir. When you speak to me, this will be the first and last word you say. I'm not really a Sir; I'm a Sergeant. I work for a living. But we don't have enough officers to go around, so you'll practice on me.

"I have been assigned to ride herd on you untrained monkeys, and with any luck, turn you into soldiers. I have my doubts about this mission; I don't think there's a single one among you spineless worms fit to serve in defense of our islands.

"Up to now, you have been protected by our fine brotherhood of killers. You have slept soundly in your beds, because I, and those like me, have stood ready to do nasty things to bad people on your behalf. You, like we, have come from a society at peace. A place where manners and good behaviour are important. You have left that world behind, because you feel that you have something to prove."

He did not shout. He did not need to. His voice carried across the ranks of the two hundred or so assembled recruits, without effort.

"I don't really care why you are here. But if you are here for the wrong reasons, I will find out. I will drive you from our ranks, as we cull the losers, misfits and failures.

"You will not like me. You will curse my name every night before you drop into your beds from sheer exhaustion.

"I will not like you. I am certain, now, that ninety percent of you are a complete waste of my time, and I will do my best to get rid of that ninety percent as fast as possible, as my time is valuable.

"With any luck, those who survive this training camp will make good soldiers, ready to lay their lives on the line to protect our islands. But looking at you now, I have to say that I have my doubts."

"Yo, Sir. Bein' kinda hard on 'em, ain't ya?"

Fujishima stopped. He turned slowly, walked down the formation, and stepped in to the second rank to face the recruit who had just spoken.

"And just who the hell are you?"

"Saotome Ranma."

"You have hearing difficulty, Recruit Private Saotome?"

"Nope."

"Seems you do. Let me repeat myself, and I will use smaller words and speak more slowly, in case it is instead a mental problem. When you speak to me, the first and last words out of your mouth will be Sir. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Wrong answer. Try again."

"Sir, yes, Sir."

"Oh, good. You can be taught. Here is lesson number two. You will not speak unless spoken to first. Clear?"

"Sir, yes, Sir."

"Good. Now then, Private. The reason that our forces have chosen to put me in charge, and not you, is because I have been a soldier for twenty years now. How long have you been a soldier?"

"Uhh...About three weeks? I mean, Sir, three weeks, Sir."

"Wrong. You signed up three weeks ago. Today, you are starting training. You will not be a soldier until I tell you that you are a soldier. Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes, Sir."

"So since I am a soldier, and an instructor, and let us not forget, a sergeant, how about you let me handle the training, and you shut up and be trained. Good enough?"

Saotome paused. "Sir, I'd agree to that, but I think you're doin' it wrong. Sir."

Fujishima darkened. "Are you going to be my problem child, Private?"

"Sir?"

"Every class has one like you. Some asshole who thinks he's better than me. Better than the whole JSDF. Do you think you're better than me, Private?"

"Sir, yes Sir."

"Oh, I am going to enjoy breaking you, Private." He grinned, then raised his voice. "Private Saotome seems to think he's better than me. I think that we need to settle this right now. We'll start with a nice long run."

* * *

"How long did he last?"

The Sergeant looked abashed. "Actually, Sir, he ran me into the dirt."

The Colonel raised his eyebrows. "Come again?"

"The rest of the recruits lasted maybe a kilometer. One or two held out for two. But Saotome looked fresh as a daisy by the time I dropped. Sixty kilometers. Dammit, I still feel every one of them."

"Takeshi, you're a marathon runner. You've done some of the toughest runs in the world."

"Yeah, but this kid is stupid tough. His physical conditioning is just this side of superhuman."

Iwahara nodded. "You said that this is where it started, but that he's improved since then. When did this change?"

* * *

"Sir, Recruit Private Saotome Ranma, reporting as ordered, Sir."

The Sergeant nodded. "Cap off, Saotome."

"Sir, yes Sir." Ranma removed the baseball cap, but remained at attention.

"Saotome, I think we're going to have a problem with you."

"Sir?"

"Your attitude is not suitable for that of a soldier. If you cannot straighten up and fly right, we are likely going to dismiss you."

Ranma paused, and considered. "The fact that you're warnin' me of this, Sir, tells me that you think I can change."

"Perceptive of you, Recruit. What I didn't tell you, in front of the other recruits, is that assholes like you, if they _can_ adjust their attitude, can become some of the finest soldiers in the JSDF." The sergeant paused for a sip of coffee. "I have developed an impression, from our little run earlier today, that you have an athletics background."

"Sir, martial arts, Sir."

"You can relax somewhat, Saotome. Caps are off, after all."

"Yes, Sir."

"Martial arts. How long have you been in training?"

"Sixteen years, Sir."

Takeshi blinked. "But according to your application, you're only eighteen."

"Yes, Sir. I've been in training in the family Art since I was old enough to walk."

"Well, that helps explain the conditioning. Ever done any Jiu Jitsu?"

"Yes, Sir. Parts of it, anyway. The official name of our family Art is Unrestricted Grappling, but we generally call it Anything Goes. The school culls the best techniques from all other Arts, and keeps only the best."

"Then you and I have some common ground. Do you know how many recruits actually make it into the JSDF?"

"You said ten percent, Sir."

"I lied. It's more like five percent. Half are dropped during the application phase." The sergeant smiled. "We cull the ones from the herd who don't have what it takes, to keep only those who are the best."

"Good policy."

"Oh, so now you agree with me? Do you know what makes a soldier a soldier, Saotome?"

He shrugged. "Not really. Rifles, uniforms, and marchin' in step?"

"A rabble could do that. No. What makes a soldier a truly effective weapon is that he is part of a team."

Saotome considered again. "So the strength of the team is based on the fact that everyone does everything the same way. Right?"

"Close. Not everyone does everything the same way; there are specialists, after all. But everyone knows what everyone else is capable of doing, and how they will do it."

"Makes sense."

"The problem that we have here, Saotome, is that you are too much of an individualist at this point. I personally think that you have what it takes to be a hell of a soldier. But the effort must be on your part. We will guide you, shape you, into the mold of a soldier. Do not break that mold."

"Understood, Sir."

The Sergeant stood up - slowly, as his legs were still in great pain. "I am going to train you within an inch of your life, Saotome, and you will shut up and take instruction. You will not be a thorn in my side, or I will kick your ass out, and lose no sleep over it. If you truly want to be here, you must abide by the way we do things, and do not test us. If you survive recruit training, _if_ you advance in the ranks, you _may_ have the chance to improve things. But right now, you must learn the way things are done before you can properly see how they may be changed."

"Yes, Sir."

"There is room for individualism in the Army, soldier, but the place is not here, not now. You will follow my orders to the best of your ability, or you will find yourself again a civilian. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Dismissed."

Ranma turned to leave, then paused and turned back to the Sergeant. "Sarge...You said that individuals like myself can become great soldiers. Got any examples, so I can look them up?"

The Sergeant smiled again. "You're looking at one."

* * *

"Sounds like you got the problem ironed out then."

"That part of it." Fujishima glanced towards the Colonel's coffee maker. "Mind if I grab a cup, Sir?"

"Go ahead."

He stood, and poured a cup for himself, and another for the Colonel. "Saotome followed orders to the letter after that. He's determined to prove himself. Mastered rifles faster than any other recruit. I had to show him once, just once, how to strip and clean the rifle, and he did it just as I showed him, perfectly. Then suggested a change in the procedure to me. A good change."

"Really?"

"The kid's got a phenomenal learning curve, as well as the ability to improvise. I let the armourer know about the change he suggested, and the armourer said, and I quote, 'Why the fuck didn't I think of that?'"

The Colonel chuckled.

"But we encountered anoher problem when we came to the obstacle course."

"Kid's a martial artist. What did he do, break the obstacles?"

"No..." The Sergeant sat back down. "Well, there's a problem with him...A rather severe problem."

* * *

"The purpose of this obstacle course is to teach you to traverse unpredictable terrain in an efficient manner." The Sergeant indicated the array of obstacles. "You will start here, and proceed to the finish line. I shall observe your movement, and instruct you in the proper military manner how to clear each obstacle, should you fail to do so in a manner that pleases me."

"Sir, can you show us your way first, Sir?"

"I did not speak to you, Saotome. You keep your trap shut. But since you volunteered, you can go first."

"Sir, yes, Sir."

Saotome charged the obstacle course as he would a foe. Tires; he simply ran across the tops. The fence; he leaped clear up to the top, one foot touching the top beam lightly, then dropped down to the other side. Ropes; he took the jump at full speed, snagged a rope, slung straight over to the other side. Uneven bars; he leaped to the top of the first one, then skipped across, two at a time, straight over the entire obstacle. The mud pit; he leaped, obviously aiming to get over the entire thing in one leap.

He didn't quite make it, but splashed down near the end. The mud was mostly water, but there was plenty of dirt in it. Saotome stood up with a quiet curse.

The Sergeant could feel his jaw dropping open of its own accord, and he staggered forward a step, unwilling to believe what his eyes reported. Saotome had shrunk somewhat, except across the chest. The white T-shirt, now brown and muddy, hugged obvious - and large - breasts. He - no, she - adjusted her pants quickly, then proceeded forward, tackling the last obstacle, a sheer wall, by simply leaping over it. She landed with a bounce, then turned and jogged around the obstacle course.

Sergeant Fujishima watched in disbelief as Saotome returned. Yes, without a doubt, he was now female. And there was a look of dread on her face.

"Saotome..."

"Sir, obstacle course completed, Sir." She saluted smartly, but the expression on her face remained one of fear.

"My office, now."

* * *

"...turned into a _woman?_"

"That is correct, Sir." Fujishima tossed a few Polaroids on the desk. "I wouldn't have ever believed it myself, except that I saw it happen. Here's some photos to support it."

The Colonel examined the first photograph. Taken in the Sergeant's office, it showed a Recruit Private, rather damp, a look of chagrin on his face. He shifted to the second picture. The same clothing, right down to the dirt stains, but on a short, rather curvy female. The regulation number two brush cut looked odd on the girl. He caught himself staring at the way her nipples stood out under the thin T, and dropped the pictures. "Have you got an explanation for this?"

"Yeah. He, or she, or whatever...anyway, Private Saotome suffers under a magical curse, or so he says. Cold water changes him into a female. Hot water reverses the effect. It doesn't have to be specifically water; he used hot coffee to switch back to male."

"How long have you known about this?"

"Three days. I didn't bother reporting it, because technically, it's not a disqualifying issue. We have both males and females in the JSDF, and they wear the same uniform. At least, the outer layers." He chuckled. "Saotome objected to my taking the photos, but I knew I'd need supporting evidence."

"This is damn peculiar. Did you talk to the base doc about it?"

"Oh, yes. Had Saotome fully checked out. He objected to that too, but he's still following orders." The Sergeant produced a folder. "The doctor reports that Saotome is, in female form, still well above physical requirements to remain in the forces. In fact, she's stronger in female form than most of our male troopers." He sighed. "Which brings us to the real issue."

"Oh?"

"Kind of hard to hide the fact that Saotome changed gender. He did it right in front of the entire damn platoon. Pretty obvious that it was the water that did it, too. One of the recruits got the bright idea of turning off his hot water in the shower."

"Instant naked female in the male showers. That could be grounds for a sexual harassment charge."

"Saotome beat him to a pulp." The Sergeant grimaced. "Didn't do any lasting damage, but Recruit Private Sakamoto has a goodly collection of bruises. He agreed not to press assault charges, if Saotome agreed to not press sexual harassment charges."

"I see where the discipline problem lies, then. Someone else is going to decide that the beating might be worth it." The colonel paused. "Do you have any ideas on how to prevent this from happening again?"

"I don't, no." The Sergeant shook his head. "I can't give Saotome any special treatment. Can't have him shower on his own, or use my private facilities. It's just not Army. But you know what sort of wild animals these recruits are at this stage of their training."

"All too well."

"But Saotome has a lot of potential, and is really shaping up to be a fine soldier. Another incident like the last, and I won't be able to keep him out of the MP's hands. So we need to find a way to make certain that such an incident does not occur again."

* * *

Ranma gently squeezed the trigger, and the rifle barked once. He smiled, and fired again. Ten rounds, one after another. The rifle locked open on empty. He ejected the magazine, visually examined the chamber to ensure it was clear, closed the bolt and set the safety.

He was certain that the rifle was empty, but he went through the procedure as prescribed. The Range Safety Officer had been very, very clear on this: Always treat the rifle as though it was loaded. Always ensure that it is not.

He stood up, slung the rifle, and waited until the remaining recruits had fired, then, when the RSO cleared them, went to collect his target. He grinned at the paper. All ten holes were clustered in a small group in the X ring; he'd shot a "Possible", scoring one hundred - the maximum score, and all ten rounds in the tiebreaking ring. It was called a "Possible" because it was the next best thing to impossible - possible, but only just.

"Private Saotome!"

"Sir."

He turned and jogged over to the Sergeant, and handed him the target. The Sergeant glanced at it, and said, "Nice shooting, Private."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Report to Colonel Iwahara, on the bounce."

Ranma blinked. He'd only ever seen the Colonel from a distance. "Sir, yes, Sir."

* * *

"Recruit Private Saotome, reporting as ordered, Sir."

Iwahara looked the young man up and down. "So you're the troublemaker, are you?"

"Sir. So the Sergeant has informed me, Sir."

"Sit down, Private. Cap off."

Ranma sat down slowly, and removed the baseball cap that served as headgear for recruit privates. He ran a hand through the two-millimeter stubble that the JSDF was pleased to call a regulation haircut, and felt a brief pang for his missing pigtail.

"Coffee?"

"No thank you, Sir."

"Understand there was a spot of trouble in the showers two days ago?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I'd like a few details. And relax, will you? We're not going to kick you out over this."

"Yes, Sir. My secret is out, Sir. The whole platoon now knows I can change gender."

"More than the whole platoon; the Army knows now."

"Anyway, one of the guys turned off the hot water, figurin' that if water changed me, but hot water didn't - I've showered with these guys before, after all - it must be cold water that does it." He scowled. "They used to do that at my school, too. So I pounded him. Didn't want to wreck his chances, though, so I didn't do anything permanent."

"I understand that. Private Saotome, you present us with a bit of a problem. There's a right way to handle things, and a wrong way. You chose the wrong way."

Ranma nodded. "I get that now. What's the right way?"

"Well, normally, the right way would be to avoid such situations. But we can't do that. So we'll do it the Army way instead. If this happens again, do not attack the culprit. Simply inform your Instructor Sergeant. He will inform me. And the offending individual will find himself in hack up to his neck. Or possibly a civilian. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." Ranma paused. "If you kick him out, can I pound him then?"

"Now, Private. Our job is to protect the civilians." The Colonel's mouth twiched. "No matter how much we want to pound them."

"Understood, Sir."

"I shall be making an announcement to the troops in your platoon, to make this clear." The Colonel stood up. "Sexual harassment of any sort must not be tolerated." He picked the photos up off his desk, and handed them to Ranma. "You can have these back."

Ranma shrugged and took them. "I don't really need them."

"Yes, but I found myself spending too much time looking at them. Or one of them, anyway." The Colonel grinned. "At least you have the advantage of becoming a very beautiful young woman."

Ranma reddened at this, much to his disgust.

* * *

It had been one of the most gruelling two months of his life, but he'd managed to sweat it out. The Army had, of course, its traditions for graduations, and while he felt it silly, he'd kept his trap shut, and marched and saluted with the rest of the Company.

Company. What a joke. It had been a reinforced Company when he started training, but now it was barely a Section. The Sergeant hadn't been lying; around eight of every ten Recruit Privates had been found, either by the Sergeant or by themselves, unfit to wear the uniform, and had returned to civilian life.

But not him. He'd stuck with it, did things the Army way, no matter how goofy it seemed, and had emerged at the other side of the crucible stronger, both physically and mentally, and with a greater respect for the way the Army worked.

He had specialized along the way, getting fully trained in on the MINIMI machine gun. As a heavy-weapons expert, or "pig-man" - he chuckled, remembering another pig-man from his past - he was the hard-hitting fist of his Squad. Each five-man Lance included a scout, a pig-man, a medic or a radioman, and two riflemen. His job was to anchor his Lance, providing fire support to cover advancing troops.

Graduation was followed by a three-day liberty. Unfortunately, he couldn't make it to Nerima from the base and back in only three days, but there was a half-way decent bar in the local town. Recruit Privates were not permitted alcohol, but a Trained Private - which he would remain until posted to his unit - could indulge.

Which he did. He rarely drank alcohol anyway, so he figured that for graduation, he could have a beer. Yebisu wasn't his favourite, but it was cheap, and halfway good. He relaxed in his chair, feet up on the small round table, and listened to the music and the noise of the crowd.

A voice rose above the crowd, speaking English, but with an odd liquid accent. He glanced over, to see a small man, dark-skinned, in the uniform of the United Nations Air Service. The smaller man was being heckled by a very large red-haired fellow, who also spoke English, with a different but equally odd accent. As he watched, the larger man shoved the smaller one, causing him to drop his beer, and yelled something at him.

For a moment, he wished he understood English, so he knew whether or not he should step in. That moment passed when the red-haired giant kicked the little man. Ranma sighed, drained his beer, and stood.

"Excuse me." He spoke in Japanese, hoping that the giant spoke the language. Red stopped, and glanced down at Ranma. Way down; at one hundred and sixty centimeters, Ranma was short even among his own people, and this fellow was nearly two meters tall.

The giant sneered at him, and spoke in halting Japanese. "Who are you?"

"Recruit Private Saotome." He decided that he'd better dumb down the language, and speak slowly. "You will leave now."

"Little man run away, if know what good." Red cracked his knuckles.

"Leave now." Ranma shifted one foot backwards slightly, and tilted his shoulders. The stance was designed to make it look like he was about to bolt.

Red fell for it, and threw a wild punch at him. Ranma ducked slightly, snagged the fist in an iron grasp, twisted, and launched the man head over heels across the floor. People dived out of the way of the oncoming missile, and he smacked into a pinball machine, collapsed to the floor, and did not move.

There was a stunned silence, then some scattered applause. Ranma knelt next to the smaller man. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'll live." The man stood up shakily, and shook his head. "Thanks. I owe you one. Can I get you a beer?"

"No, thank you." Ranma grinned. The man had good Japanese, but that accent made it sound like music. "I limit myself to one, and I've already had it."

"Well, thanks anyway." The man offered a hand. "Edgar LaSalle."

Ranma shook the man's hand. "Saotome Ranma."

"So, Saotome-kun." Edgar grinned, obviously pleased with his language skills. "Northern Army?"

"Yep." Ranma nodded. "Just finished up basic."

"My sister is posted with the Northern Army," commented Edgar. "Loaner from the UN Ground Forces."

"Military family?"

"Naw. It just beat tryin' to recover land from the sea in our home state." Edgar dropped a coin on the bar, and another beer appeared in front of him. "We're from Louisiana. Ever been there?"

"No. I'm from Nerima originally. I travelled a lot, but mostly Japan, sometimes to China."

"You don't want to visit there too often. At least not recently." Edgar fished into a breast pocket, extracted a somewhat battered card. "Tell ya what. If ever you're back in Tokyo, gimme a call. My ship's normally stationed nearby, and half the time I'm on the beach."

Ranma gave him a quick look-over, and realized that the man was a Lieutenant. "Thank you, Sir."

"No problem. And if you ever get tired of the Army, well, the UN Maritime Forces can always use a good man."

"What was Red's problem with you, anyway?"

"Oh, he's a racist." Edgar shrugged. "United States Marine. Of all the bars in all the towns in all the world, he had to walk into this one. I knew him, see, from back in Basic. Before I went UN Maritime, I was a Marine, and he had a chip on his shoulder the size of New Orleans."

"Racist? But you are both Americans." Ranma paused. "It was because of your skin colour?"

"Yep." Edgar took a long pull at his beer, and sighed. "We're supposed to be past all that crap, but the Klan is still active in Louisiana, and he's a card-carrying member. There are supposed to be rules against it, but he's out of uniform, off base, and there's not a hell of a lot I can do about it."

"You were a Marine?"

"Just said that, didn't I?"

"Then you have martial arts training."

"He's bigger than me," said Edgar. "The Marine's martial art, they call it Semper Fu, rewards the larger, stronger combatant."

Ranma considered, then said, "I can teach you some moves from Aikido."

"What's that?"

"It is an Art that favours the smaller combatant. You just saw some of it." He gestured towards the unconscious Marine. "Mind you, Aikido does not normally involve tossing someone into a pinball machine, but hey. It works."

"Okay. How long would it take?"

"Normally, months at least to reach competent levels. But I can show you a few simple throws tonight."

Edgar considered his beer, then knocked it back, dropped the glass on the bar, and said, "Why not?"

* * *

"The key to understanding Aikido is to look at the word itself. The first syllable, _ai_, means harmony."

"I thought that word meant love."

"It can, depending on context. In this context, it is harmony. The second syllable, _ki_, means spirit."

Edgar nodded. "I know that one. Throwin' fireballs and stuff."

"A high-level practitioner of the Art can do that sort of thing, but you'll be using _ki_ at a more...pedestrian level." Ranma smirked. "Trust me, you need tons of training to be able to toss a fireball.

"The final syllable, _do_, means path. Altogether, it means, 'The path to harmony of the spirit.'"

"Sounds more like a new-age religion."

"First step. You need to learn to channel your _ki_, at least a little. Take a deep breath, and hold out your arm."

Edgar did so. Ranma noted, pleased, that he was breathing like a martial artist - from the toes. He grasped Edgar's wrist, rested his other hand on top of the elbow.

"Picture your _ki_ as a strong blast of wind. The air you breathe in rushes out through your arm, out your fingertips. Strong wind, like from a jet engine. So much wind that your arm cannot be bent. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Because I'm going to try to bend your arm, and you're gonna stop me."

Edgar's eyes snapped open. "Oh, you think? You're gonna bend me like a pretzel."

"I don't know about Louisiana, but here in Japan, pretzels are straight. Remember. The wind will keep your arm straight. Not the muscle. Just the wind. Breathe."

Edgar breathed again, and Ranma started applying pressure. Then more; the little sailor had a surprising amount of _ki_. More still, and the man's arm simply would not bend. He stopped before reaching his full power, however, and stepped back. "Good. The arm does not bend."

Edgar opened his eyes again. "Damn. Didn't even feel it."

"The force I exerted would have bent a steel bar." Ranma stepped back another step. "Now watch."

He held out his own arm, as though to grasp, then pivoted. "Notice the arm is straight."

"Yeah. So?"

"Your legs can generate four times your body weight in pressure, each. But the arm cannot match that. If you reinforce your _ki_ in the arm, however, it will not bend. This means that with an unbendable arm, you can throw someone who weighs four times as much as you." He pivoted again, this time the arm starting low and rising. "There are four circles." Another pivot, arm starting high and dropping. "This means you can throw someone four different directions." A final pivot, his arm starting above his head and sweeping down to his feet. He stepped back to attention. "Understand?"

"I think so."

"Do not think. Just do." Ranma stepped forward, threw a punch - a deliberately slow punch, just about at Edgar's level. Edgar reacted, grasping the hand and pivoting, tossing Ranma away.

He ran out the throw, stopped, and turned towards Edgar. "Very good, Sir." He bowed to him.

Edgar was staring at his hand. "Damn...that was easy!"

"I was going slow. Practise the _ki_ focus, practise the pivot - always on the ball of the foot, never the ankle - and I think you need not fear any more Marines."

"Saotome, I won't forget this." Edgar bowed to the Private. "If ever you need anything, just call."

* * *


	3. Chapter Two: A Few Good Men

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Two: A Few Good Men**

**

* * *

October 16th, 1997**

_Never thought I'd be back in Nerima._

Crawling through the mud and grass was not Ranma's idea of a good time, by any stretch of the imagination. Especially considering that at the speed required for your average soldier to traverse this particular stretch of mud and grass without giving away his position, said traverse took far too much time.

On his own, he could have covered it in a tenth the time, still undetected, but then how would he be able to support his fire team? Much as it chafed him, as the Lance Corporal responsible for his team of five, he had to think of them first. And therefore crawl at their speed, so that he could properly support them on arrival.

The new plastic chain-links on the machine-gun's ammunition belt made silent movement a hell of a lot easier, at least. He'd approved of that change most heartily. Not that they'd listened to him.

_Hmmm...how could I improve this situation? Fire support from the front is certainly possible, but I'd still need the rest of my fire team to close up before I started with the rock and roll. Plus, the longer we remain undetected, the better._

As they had every time he'd run this sort of training exercise, his mind turned to the Umi-Sen-Ken. However, he'd sworn never to teach those techniques, never to even use them again, and his word, even if only to himself, was something that he kept.

_But if it is altered, changed, adapted for a different style of combat--_

No. Best to put it out of his mind. Perhaps he could design a new stealth style entirely, but the Umi-Sen-Ken had caused nothing but pain and grief. The one time that Akane had a right to actually call him a pervert was from when he had trained in the Umi-Sen-Ken.

_Yo, better pay attention...that sentry is gettin' close._ He glanced at his watch...three minutes until showtime. The sentry pulled out his walkie-talkie, made a quick report, and Ranma grinned. _How perfect is this?_

The sentry clipped the radio back onto his belt, and Ranma moved. The dull edge of his knife blade touched the sentry's throat, and he whispered, "Gotcha."

The sentry nodded, a sour expression on his face, and Ranma lowered him to the ground. By the rules of the exercise, the sentry was "dead", but having just checked in with his base, he would not be missed until the show was over.

Ranma moved more quickly now, the machine gun held in his hands. He crested the ridge, and looked down at the truck park below. Six two-and-a-half-tonne trucks, thirty soldiers, all wearing desert camo - a bad choice for the terrain, but they had the defensive role.

His own radio crackled in his ear, and Private Yashida whispered, "_Machine gun nest at the big oak, and two more sentries not yet accounted for, Lance._"

"Got it, Private. Private Komori."

"_Yes, Lance?_"

"Grenade on the machine gunner, when the balloon goes up."

"_Already got him ranged in._" Komori's M-16 rifle was fitted with an underslung grenade launcher. He had the only live ammo in the lance, and they were thunder-shock grenades, that produced a brilliant flash and loud report. It would stun the machine-gunner, as it was meant to, but do no lasting damage.

Another crackle in his ear, and his Corporal said, "_Lance one is in position. First section reports in position. Wait for it..._"

Ranma flipped out the bipod on the MINIMI, and carefully and quietly loaded the belt into the breach. He drew back the bolt of the machine gun, prepped to fire. And waited.

Another crackle in his ear, and Sergeant Sakamoto said, "_Begin._"

Far to Ranma's left, Komori's M-203 coughed, and the T-Shock exploded downrange. Ranma held his fire, waited until he heard Corporal Hashimoto order his Lance down. Then he opened fire, his MINIMI flaring as it fired blanks, and more importantly, LASER beams from the MILES gear attached to it. His lance closed the gap to the encampment, covered by his fire.

Seconds later, it was over. The Sergeant commanding the OPFOR - the opposing force - was among the "dead", his MILES gear beeping and flashing, but despite his obvious disgust with himself, he saluted the Lieutenant running the exercise smartly, and exchanged brief pleasantries with Sergeant Sakamoto. Ranma safed the machine gun, unloaded it carefully - even blanks can cause serious injury at short range, and it was just the Army way to keep a gun as safe as possible - and slung the weapon.

"Yo, Lance." Private Hatta, Ranma's radioman, had pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it casually. "You just gotta train me up in stealth. That big-ass gun of yours should make it impossible to sneak around, but I had no idea where you were until you opened fire."

"All just practise, Private." Ranma shrugged. "And trainin' ain't in my job description, but I can steer you to the right instructors." He hesitated, then asked, "You a martial artist?"

"Basic Kempo training, that's it."

"Spend a little more time in the dojo. It'll help your stealth."

"Thanks." Hatta flicked an ash. "How long you been in? I haven't seen any service stripes on your uniform."

"Just over a year."

Hatta's eyebrows rose. "A year only, and you've made two pay grades and got posted to the Special Forces? Lance, you're on the fast track."

* * *

"I do not really appreciate your poaching our men, Brigadier."

"You are not expected to like it." Brigadier General Goro Enomoto wore the grey undress uniform of the United Nations Marine Forces - a high-collared jacket, its only decorations his rank markings; a floppy beret, bearing the delta of the UN Forces; slacks and boots, the latter unpolished, so that they would not betray the wearer's position. "But the simple fact is that Japan has not yet met its quota of forces to the United Nations. The Marines in particular are under-represented, because Japan has no Marine Forces. But the Special Forces are the closest that you have, and so I need some of your warm bodies. Thirty men."

"That's almost a full platoon." Major Sato scowled. "You know the problems that the JSDF has holding onto trained soldiers. This sudden rush of recruits that we've had won't last. Once the terrorists are run to ground, soldiers will start remembering how much more they can be paid in the private sector. Talent goes to where the money is."

"Major, I understand why you oppose me on this. You have to look out for your men." Enomoto pulled a folder from his briefcase. "This has been signed by the Prime Minister."

Sato frowned, and accepted the folder, but did not open it. "Very well. You got any men in particular in mind?"

"Yes. But I will need to interview them. Like the JSDF, the UN Forces are strictly volunteer. Even more so the Marines."

* * *

**October 23rd, 1996**

_Dear Ranma,_

_I was glad to hear that you've been posted to Nerima, but unfortunately, I had to relocate to Yokohama. Believe it or not, I've gotten a job. Your father disapproves, which is causing us some stress, but he will have to learn to deal with the fact._

_And from what you've told me, you're doing very well in your new career. Your father disapproves of that as well, but I know you give little credence to what he wants on that score. You're doing what you feel is right, and I cannot disagree with you. I just wish I had had a chance to be there for your graduation ceremony. You must look so manly in your uniform!_

_Your father won't admit it, possibly because he feels it's not manly, but he misses you. I miss you too. Let me know if you have a vacation, or whatever the military calls it, and we'll try to get together._

_With love,_

_Your mother._

"Yo. Saotome."

Ranma looked up from the letter. "Yeah, Sarge?"

"Word from head office. There's a UN officer there, looking to talk to you."

"Thank you, Sarge." Ranma folded the sheet of paper, tucked it back into the envelope, and leaped to her feet. "I bet it's Edgar. His sister is posted to Nerima."

"This Edgar fellow a Brigadier General?"

Ranma blinked. "No. Last time I saw him, he was a Lieutenant, junior grade."

"Then it ain't Edgar. And since it _is_ a Brigadier General, I suggest you get there on the bounce."

Ranma nodded, snagged her beret, and glanced around. "Damn...never a cup of coffee about when you need one. Sarge, you think I got time to boil up a pot?"

"Doubt it."

"Damn. Well, if he's askin' to see me, he probably already has my dossier." With the curse being on Army record, Ranma saw very little point in hiding it. But meeting a superior officer while in female form wasn't her first choice. She pulled the beret on, and jogged from the H-Barracks.

* * *

"Lance Corporal Saotome Ranma, reporting as ordered, Sir." Ranma held the salute until the Brigadier returned it.

"Brigadier General Goro Enomoto, United Nations Marine Force." The General indicated the coffee machine, filled with only hot water. "There is water for tea, if you wish, or for any other purposes you might have."

"Thank you, General." Ranma quickly filled a cup, removed her beret and dumped it over her head. The General watched with quiet shock as the petite female vanished, to be replaced by a somewhat short, though still much larger, young man.

"I had difficulty believing that part of your dossier, Corporal." The Brigadier sat down, and picked up his cup of coffee. "But I see that it was true."

"Long story, Sir."

"Not especially interested, Corporal. The end result is all that matters, and according to your record, it doesn't slow you down." He sipped the coffee. "I observed your Section on manoeuvres last week. You see, Japan needs to send some people to the UN Forces, and I was talent-scouting your Battalion. I think you have what it takes to be a Marine."

"Really." Ranma frowned. "And what would that be, Sir?"

"The Marines are a light infantry unit, specializing in one of the hardest jobs available: Amphibious assault. We are the first on the beach, and we make it safe for the slower units, such as tanks and armoured personnel carriers. We are an offensive unit, not defensive.

"The Marines are not just hyperaggressive killers, however. The training that a Marine receives is the broadest of any private soldier. We train to operate in any environment, land, sea and air. We have our own aviators, trained in the use of vertical takeoff and landing aircraft. We have our own ships, even our own aircraft carriers, though we work hand-in-hand with the Navy for those.

"The two most important personal traits for a Marine are integrity and flexibility. The former is most important. A Marine must operate within guidelines, even more than the Army, and must support his team to a greater degree. Chain of command is strict, and it is that way for a good reason: our job is more important."

"Then there might be a problem, Sir." Ranma chuckled. "You've seen my dossier, so you know I've had issues with bein' a team player in the past."

"That is true. But your dossier also states that you have a level of flexibility that is wasted in the Army. You improvise, adapt and overcome. The way you have adapted to your curse, the way your family refines its Art, the number of foes that you have fought and defeated before joining the Army...you _think_ like a Marine."

"Okay." Ranma shrugged. "You've convinced me that I'd be good for the Marines. But I kinda like bein' in the Army. Can you convince me that the Marines would be good for me?"

"I think I can." The Brigadier opened his dossier, extracted a page. "According to this, your wife was killed in a terrorist attack a week before you signed up."

Ranma said nothing, a wary look on his face.

"Don't worry, Corporal. Your reasons for signing up are not my business." He leaned forward. "Fought many terrorists in the last year?"

"No." Ranma sighed. "We've been sent out a few times, to help deal with a situation where the terrorists hit, but only after the fact."

"You joined up for retribution--"

"Wrong." Ranma shook his head. "Oh, it mighta seemed that way, even to me, but I joined up to save lives. In the end, that's what it was. I couldn't protect her, not as I was. But I wanted to stop it from happenin' again. It is the duty of a martial artist to protect the weak."

"It is the duty of a soldier to do the same." The Brigadier looked down at the notes again. "But the Self-Defense Force is just that: A defensive force. A very good one - anyone who makes the mistake of invading Japan is in for a rude awakening - but in the end, they train for the purpose of protecting the islands.

"The Marines are an offensive unit, as I've said. Our role is to go out, find the bad guys, and do unto them before they can do unto those we have sworn to protect."

"'Decent people sleep soundly in their beds only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.'"

"You've read Orwell?"

"Naw. It was something that my drill instructor said." Ranma shrugged. "He put it differently, but I've heard it lots of different ways in the last year."

"At this time, the UN Marines are deploying all over the world, specifically to capture or kill terrorists. We get them before they can attack helpless civilians." The Brigadier closed the dossier, and looked up. "How would you like to take the fight to them directly?"

* * *

In the end, it was hardly fair, Ranma supposed. The Brigadier knew all the right buttons to press. Well, that was his MSO, just as Ranma's was Specialist (Heavy Weapons).

The thirty men and women recruited by the Brigadier found themselves packed into a train car, rather like cattle. Aside from their undress uniforms, they carried only their personal effects; all other uniforms, all other military-issue equipment and clothing, were turned into the quartermaster.

In a way, it was a bit saddening for Ranma. The Army had been his home for a year. Just like the Tendo-ke before it. Now, as always before, he was moving to a new home.

_Just once, I'd like to get used to a place before I have to move._

The train deposited them in Yokohama, a short run save for the dozens of stops it made on the way there. From the train, they boarded a military bus. Until they reached their destination, he and the others on the bus were still property of the JSDF. The bus wove through the traffic, finally pulling alongside a warehouse down near the docks.

"This way please, everyone." A Marine Captain waved them forwards. Tall and dark-haired, his features were decidedly Caucasian. Having spent three of his last four years in and about Nerima, Ranma was no stranger to foreigners - eight percent of the ward's permanent residents were non-Japanese. But this man's accent was harsh and discordant around his less than perfect command of the Japanese language. Ranma shouldered his duffle and followed him into the warehouse.

"If your last name starts with an A to M," called out a voice in halting Japanese, "please proceed to the door on the north side of the hall. If your last name starts with an N to a Z--" The announcer pronounced this last letter 'Zed.' "--Please proceed to the door on the south side of the hall."

_Do they mean family name, or given name?_ Ranma wondered. _How does the English alphabet go, anyway? I only know the_ iroha_..._ He remembered the stupid song that Kasumi had occasionally sung, and figured out that the first sound in either of his names came after N, and proceeded south. The door led to a long room, low-ceilinged, that reminded him of an H-barracks. In place of bunks, however, there were rows of desks.

He saw quite a number of Marine uniforms, as well as some from the JSDF forces, behind those desks. Ranma found himself processed through, his orders stamped, two uniforms issued - simple grey jumpsuits, a one-piece variant of the green camos he'd worn as a recruit private - and a few documents added to the file he carried. All of them were written in English, and he cursed himself for not paying attention in Hinako-sensei's class.

"Lance Corporal Saotome?"

Ranma looked up, to see a young woman with a cheerful smile Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and what hair he could see was a very pale red. She looked as though she'd been dipped in bleach. Rather than Marine greys, she wore a white uniform, with the same high-collared jacket, but a red trim around the edges. He bowed to her, and she returned it.

"Pleased to meet you, Corporal. My name is Alice Whitman, and I am a Commander in the United Nations Maritime Forces."

Her Japanese was crisp, and only barely accented - the same discordant flavour as the Captain from before, but with a different tang.

"Pleased to meet you, Commander." He still wore his beret, and so smartly saluted her, and she returned the salute. She then casually removed her cap - it looked like a bus-driver's cap - and tucked it under her arm.

"I am here, Corporal, to assess your level of education, including your knowledge of the English language."

"I can save you a lot of trouble, Commander Whitman. My English is all but non-existent, and my Japanese leaves a lot to be desired."

"If I may take that self-assessment as fact, I will sign you up for Basic English courses immediately." The Commander drew a small notepad from her belt, and jotted something down on it. "The UN Forces are multi-cultural, but we cannot function if we do not have a common language. There are more English-speaking nations in the UN, and more English-speaking people in the Forces, than any other representational group. But English is a difficult language, even more so than Japanese, so we had a team of linguists boil it down to its very basics."

"Makes sense."

"For ninety-nine percent of the things we need it for, it does. The other one percent...we try to get by. Now, what about the rest of your education?"

"I ain't no rocket scientist. If it doesn't have to do with martial arts, I didn't pay much attention."

"Well, we can make adjustments to that as well. May I have your dossier, Corporal?"

Ranma handed it over, and Commander Whitman took it, then waved towards a desk.

"Please, take a seat, and help yourself to a coffee, or a cup of tea."

"I'm fine, thanks, Ma'am." He sat down, and leaned forward. "So I'm guessin' that this ain't where we're trainin'?"

"You guess correctly. We'll be taking ship to Okinawa."

"Any word on my rank and MSO?"

"Every Marine is a rifleman first. You'll keep your rank - the JSDF insisted on that, by the way - but you'll be retrained as a rifleman, then allowed to re-qualify in your original MSO." Commander Whitman's eyebrows rose. "I doubt that re-qualifying will be an issue for you, Corporal. Your reviews are excellent."

"I know." Ranma nodded. "Ya need strength to handle a MINIMI, and I got that in spades."

"Modest, too." Commander Whitman closed the dossier. "I've only gone through about half of this, but I already know what we'll be doing with you. Go aboard, get racked, and stand to for sailing orders."

"Aye, Ma'am." He stood, and paused. "Where's my rack?"

"It's on the--Oh. You can't read English. Not a problem." She pulled a sheet from her pad, and scribbled some kana on it. "Here's your rack assignment. You're hot-bunking with a Navy file."

"No problem." He stood, and bowed to her. "Thank you for your trouble."

"No trouble at all, Corporal."

* * *

"What do you think, Commander?"

Whitman shrugged. "There's maybe two of them that would make officer material. Hasegawa, I'm not so sure of, but Saotome..." She grinned. "That kid is talented, and has lots of skills. He'd make a good junior officer, but I don't think he'd make a good O-4 or above. Keeps his cool in a jam, cares about the men under his command...All good leadership material. But he lacks the organizational skills to make it as a senior officer."

"We'll keep him in rank for the next couple of years, and see what happens. How would you rate his professional skills?"

"Astounding, at least."

"I note that you didn't cover his entire dossier." The Brigadier smirked. "Did you get to the last page?"

"No. Why?"

"Lance Corporal Saotome has some...unusual...problems. Nothing that would affect his fitness as a Marine. You should read up on it again." Enomoto paused, and added, "Just make sure you're sitting down when you do so."

"Yes, Sir." Whitman looked confused.

"Now. His strength, endurance and reflexes border on superhuman. I'm willing to bet that his gee-loading tolerance is off the chart. And as a long-time martial artist, I would also be willing to wager that his situational awareness is equally impressive. I think we should consider him for either a pilot, or a weapon systems officer."

"Perhaps." Whitman nodded. "He certainly has the right mentality."

"In a year or two, we'll be receiving the first of the Super Bugs. If he can iron out the problems in his profile, we'll test him out in Aviation."

* * *

"The bean bags are non-lethal," said the Sergeant. "Getting hit in the head might be fatal, if the Gods really don't like you at that particular moment, but the people with the guns will be aiming for chests, and you'll have your Kevlar helmet to protect what brains you have."

"What are they being fired from?" asked Morisato, a former Sergeant of the JSDF Air Force.

"Ithaca shotguns, twelve-gauge, semi-automatic with a twelve-round drum."

"Ouch."

"If one of the gunners tags you, you _will_ notice it."

"Why not use MILES gear?" asked Ranma.

"Two good reasons, Corporal. The first is that MILES is negatively affected by the beach conditions, and hits are much less reliable. Add to that the fact that the bean bags fly a lot farther, and it improves the chances of the gunners."

"Fair enough. And the second reason?"

"MILES gear doesn't hurt." The Sergeant grinned wolfishly. "If you get tagged, I want you to know it beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"So what do we get?" This was from a Private, United States Army.

The Sergeant held up two rubber knives. "Touch a gunner, and he's considered dead."

"Man!" The Private looked disgusted. "So we're outnumbered, takin' a beach against heavy gunners, armed with rubber knives, and no chance of a stealth approach!"

"Speed and cover are your allies," said the Sergeant. "For the last week, you've been studying bounding overwatch. Now you'll be practicing it."

"Overwatch implies that we've got covering fire, Sarge." Ranma frowned. "We're going in butt-naked against armed opponents."

"Find a way. Take the beach. Flexibility and ingenuity must carry this battle." The Sergeant paused. "One good piece of news, though, that may assist you with this. The defending team are Army, not Marines."

* * *

"Saotome."

"Yeah, Sarge?" Ranma looked up from his preparations. Not that there were a lot; his entire kit consisted of his body armour and his rubber knives.

"You're the highest ranking ground-pounder in this circus." Sergeant Morisato had been put in command of the boots, due to his rank. "I'm just a wing wiper. I want you to lead the landing operation."

"Sarge, I'm just a Lance. At most, I've directed a group of five, not one of forty."

Morisato grinned at that. "Think of this as a learning experience."

"Look, Sarge, I--"

Morisato had come to know Ranma rather well over the last week; the two got along well. "Okay, I understand. You're not up to this challenge."

Ranma bristled.

"Since you won't be able to win this one, I'll have to--"

"Shove it, Sarge." Ranma ground his teeth. "You want me to lead, fine. But if we get our asses kicked, I'm blamin' it on you."

"You got a deal...Sarge." Morisato grinned.

"Awright, Four-Oh-First!" Ranma raised his voice. "I've got the command. You've seen the map, you know where this tub is gonna insert us, and it looks like the powers that be are givin' us at least one break. As soon as we beach, I want First Squad to secure the ridge."

"Yes, Sir."

"Don't call me that, I'm an enlisted man. I work for a livin'. Second Squad, we don't know where their gunners will be, so I want you to scout for them. Don't get yourselves killed, we need info more than we need dead heroes."

"Aye aye."

"We'll plan further from there once we have more data."

"Landfall in thirty seconds," called out the boat's Loadmaster.

"Four-Oh-First, stand to."

The landing ship shuddered as it started to plow sand, and the front dropped, opening onto the beach. First Squad immediately charged out, moving to the ridge, and Second Squad deployed immediately behind them.

The reports of the heavy shotguns were heard, and Ranma saw one trooper go down, clutching his stomach where a bean bag had hit him. The gunner didn't last long, though, as one of the privates got within knife range. The Army gunners didn't try anything funny, just safed their guns when the Marines reached him.

"Bulk of their forces are concentrated near the goal," said Morisato. "But at least a third are in the woods, under cover."

"That would help them more if we had guns, but I think it's a mistake in this case." Ranma scowled, and thought back to the map. "We can follow this ridge to the breakwater, and use the rocks for cover to close to the woods."

"The operational area is on this side of the breakwater; if we use it for cover, we leave the exercise area."

"Better than chargin' over a beach, gettin' ourselves killed." Ranma pointed towards the breakwater. "There's cover and concealment along this side; it'll be riskier, but I guess we gotta stay inside the exercise area."

"Okay. Orders?"

"First and Second Squads," yelled Ranma. "Advance forward to the second ridge. Use cover and concealment, but don't slow down."

"Yes, Sarge!"

"Third and Fourth Squads, lateral move. Follow the ridge to the breakwater." Ranma glanced over at Morisato. "Sergeant, you're with that Section."

"Yes, Sarge."

"Corporals, advance your Squads by Lance."

"First Lance, advance to the ridge!"

The First Lance charged forward, moving unpredictably and from cover point to cover point. Bean bags flew around them, but none were struck, and they reached the cover point.

"Second Lance, advance past the ridge to the rocks!"

Second Lance had a rougher job; once they cleared the ridge, they were much more exposed. The boulders of the rock field were not as good cover, and Ranma saw another soldier go down, clutching his face. He swore explosively.

"Third Lance, advance to the ridge!"

He took his eyes off the advancement; his Corporals were handling that job properly. He looked over at the second Section, moving under complete concealment along the first ridge. They reached the breakwater, and began advancing through the rocks, in perfect bounding overwatch.

Well, it would have been perfect if they'd actually had firearms. However, they were undetected so far.

"Let's draw their attention away from Second Section. Corporals, lateral movement, cover to cover, to the right."

"Aye, Sarge."

First Section started moving laterally now, popping up just long enough to draw fire. Second Section reached the treeline, and started slipping through the forest like ghosts. The enemy gunners had no idea that they'd been flanked until the troops of the Second popped up among them, knives at the ready.

"Treeline secure, Sarge."

"Roger that." Ranma waved First Section forward. "Roving overwatch to the treeline, then we'll head for the goal."

* * *

"He didn't take command, he was handed it by a superior."

"Doesn't matter." The Colonel shook his head. "It wasn't his place to lead this exercise."

"It was. He was ordered to do so. Therefore, he did so, and did a damn fine job." Brigadier Enomoto pointed a finger angrily at the after-action report on his desk. "Less than fifty percent casualties. Pretty goddamn impressive, considering they were outnumbered and severely under-equipped."

The Colonel scowled. "I'm not arguing his competence. I'm arguing the fact that this exercise was not meant to be a test of Lance Corporal Saotome's competence. He skewed the results of--"

"The results are, the Marines won." Enomoto closed the report folder. "Winning is what we pay them to do. Colonel, I know that this training battalion is your command, but either you approve the promotion, or I will."

"Fine." The Colonel deflated. "I'll get the paperwork started."

* * *

No graduation ceremony for this bunch. Training completed, and they were immediately posted to replacement depot. Ranma found himself assigned to the _McCrae_ as a squad leader. He could almost feel the weight of the three chevrons on his shoulder.

_Man, still only a year in, and I've made Sergeant._

He stood at the bow of the ship, watching the horizon as the _McCrae_ moved out to join its task force. He had been briefed in on the mission he and his men would be carrying out. Since most of the anti-Unification nations were not willing or able to step up to the plate militarily, they had fallen back on terrorist activities. These terrorists had bases on islands scattered throughout the Pacific - their parent nations had trained them, but could not base them out of their own countries. If they did so, the entire wrath of the UNEDF would descend on them like the wrath of the Kami and ruin their whole day.

But concealed on their islands, the terrorists avoided detection, and allowed the anti-unification countries plausible deniability. Smashing the island bases was certainly possible, but with no leads back to whom was funding the terrorists...

Ranma sighed. The picture had gotten bigger since the day that Akane died, and no less confusing. The FJA might not be among those that he and his men were loosed upon, but they were still killers, terrorists and cowards.

They would soon be discovering that their career choice was, perhaps, a bit ill-advised.

* * *


	4. Chapter Three: The Captain's Daughter

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Three: The Captain's Daughter

* * *

**

**February 24th, 2000**

The door opened, and much to Ranma's surprise, a blonde giant strode through. The giant glanced at the two beds in the suite, then tossed his duffel on the one that was in pristine condition.

"Master Corporal Gunnar Thorson. Charlie Platoon, Sixth of the Second." The giant held out a paw towards Ranma. "Been assigned to this unit for my furlough."

Ranma took the proferred hand, relieved to find that the giant at least knew his own strength and was willing to moderate it. "First Sergeant Ranma Saotome." Given the giant's obviously Caucasian origin, he felt it prudent to give his family name last. "Delta Platoon, Second of the First."

Thorson blinked. "Damn. You must have been in right from the beginning."

"Not really. The UN Marines had been around almost a year before they formed Second Regiment. They had funding issues." Ranma gestured towards the door on the far side of the room. "Head's over there. Chow call is at seven hundred, twelve hundred and eighteen hundred, but the chef here isn't terribly inspired. I can show you to the mess later on."

"How long you been at Pearl?" The giant had started stripping off his sweat-soaked BDUs.

"About five weeks now. Got another three on my furlough, then it's back to the _Marion_ for another six-month deployment." Ranma closed his book and set it on the table. "I'm startin' to wonder if signin' up with this outfit was such a hot idea."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"I transferred in from the Japanese Self-Defense Forces, Special Forces Unit. I spend six months ridin' around in a damn boat, spend four months doin' jerk-off work at some base or another, and two months of furlough. I coulda done all that in the JSDF, except without the friggin' boat."

"So you haven't seen any action yet?"

"Oh, yeah. We hit a trainin' camp on my last deployment. The terrorists just folded up on us. Ran up the white flag and everything. We just walked onto the beach and took 'em all in custody." Ranma snorted. "Problem is that since none of 'em were on our list, they're all back on the street now."

"Shit."

"Yeah. I wonder how cops can handle it. I didn't sign up to be a cop."

"Listen, as soon as I get myself scrubbed and re-bagged, what say we answer for mess call?" Thorson stepped into the tiny head and started the shower. "I'm so hungry I could eat a tiny little Sergeant, bones and all."

Ranma chuckled. "Yeah, why the hell not? I normally eat in town, but I can help you get familiar with Pearl."

"Sergeant Saotome?" There was a knock at the door, and a thin man, tall and bespectacled stepped in. "Orders, Sarge."

"Thanks, Private." Ranma took the envelope, then signed on the Private's clipboard. He opened the envelope, and scowled at the contents. "Man, this sucks. Furlough cut short, redeploy tomorrow...must be something major." He glanced over at the head. "Yo, Gunnar. Make it quick, I'm starved, and I ship out tomorrow."

* * *

"Surprised you didn't know about this place, Sarge." Thorson had a massive rack of ribs in front of him, drowned in barbecue sauce. Ranma had opted instead for a fish tempura, about as close as he could find on this miserable island to Japanese cuisine. It was unfamiliar in texture and taste, but quite easy on the palate.

"I'm a big fan of food, I'll admit, but this is the first time I've been at Pearl, and there's a lot of restaurants around." Ranma looked up at the Corporal quizzically. "You seem to know every one of them, all the bars, pretty much everything about the town."

"This is my third furlough at Pearl."

"Then why did you let me lead you around like an idiot?"

Thorson grinned. "I'm a compulsive people watcher. You told me way more about yourself than you did about Pearl, and all you were talking about was the base and town."

"Ah." Ranma chuckled. "I don't really have such a knack."

"Saotome...sounds Japanese. I don't think you mentioned anything about where you were from, except that it had two really fine restaurants."

"My family comes from the Nerima Prefecture of Tokyo, in Japan." Ranma nodded. "I'm the heir to a martial arts family. That doesn't add up to jack squat in the real world, though, except that I know how to fight."

"Is that why you signed up?"

"No." Ranma looked down at his tempura. "My reasons for joining the armed forces...I'd just as soon not discuss them. They are private."

"Not a problem." The giant waved them off.

"Tell the truth, I wasn't a very good fit for the Army. Kept screwing things up through Basic." He indicated his Chinese tang and pants. "I don't like uniforms, never did. Don't care for discipline, at least not Army style. The Marines were a better fit for me, except that my curse and water make for a rough time."

"Curse?"

Ranma picked up his waterglass and upended it over his head. Thorson's eyes widened as Ranma shifted forms.

"Cold water turns me female." Ranma then picked up her tea, poured that over her head, and reverted to male form. "Hot water reverses it, temporarily."

"Holy fuck." Thorson shook his head. "That's un-fucking-believable."

"Do you doubt your own eyes?" Ranma picked up the other glass of water, and poured it over his head again. "As you can see, it's a complete change."

"And the Marines kept you in?"

"Yep." Ranma nodded. "As long as I can still carry my machine gun, they don't care." She picked up her teapot again, and cursed. "Crud. Out of hot water."

Thorson grinned. "That's all right, Sarge. I don't mind being seen in public with a hot young lady."

Ranma scowled at him. "Just don't try bein' stupid, or you'll have to try eatin' those ribs with no teeth. I ain't into guys at all."

"You mind if I leer a bit, Sarge?" Thorson chuckled. "I mean, there's really nothing wrong with the way you look, at least."

"I don't care if you leer." Ranma leaned back and laughed along with the Corporal. "It'll only worsen the frustration."

"At least you seem to take it in stride. Dunno if I could do that."

"I didn't always," said Ranma. "When it first happened, I damn near killed my Pops. It was him that knocked me into the cursed spring."

"Spring?"

"Yeah, whatever drowns there causes the spring to become cursed. There's a hundred or more springs at the valley where it happened. Jushenkyou, it was called." Ranma raised a hand to flag down a waitress. "Anyone who falls in the springs after that takes on the curse, and turns into whatever drowned there. In my case, it was spring of drowned girl."

"Damn." Thorson shook his head. "I suppose, if there was a spring of drowned man, you could get uncursed?"

"I could, and there was, but Jushenkyou is gone. I destroyed it, during a battle on a nearby mountain. More tea, please?" This last was directed to the waitress.

"You destroyed a whole valley?" Thorson shook his head. "Why aren't you doing unarmed combat training?"

"I won't teach the family Art."

"Why not?"

Ranma sighed. "The training methods used on me were dangerous, to a ludicrous degree. I don't know any other ways of training in the Art, and besides, I'm not licensed to teach. The only licensed Master of the art died two years ago, with no heirs and no other licensed Masters. So the family Art is going to die out."

"Can you teach on your own ticket?"

"Not the family Art." She shook her head. "I'm developing my own style, but that puts me at an enormous disadvantage in the field of Martial Arts."

* * *

Thorson had decided to head out to another part of Pearl, and Ranma had decided to take a walk along the beach. With any luck, he could find a quiet place to train. Rain during this time of year in Hawai'i was sudden and brief; he'd found himself a she not thirty minutes after leaving the restaurant.

"Typical," she muttered. "It always happens when there's no hot water to be found." She tried to wring the water out of her shirt, then looked up at the sound of a giggle.

A young girl, thirteen or maybe fourteen, was grinning at her. She was skinny, a little over Ranma's height, and had long brown hair gathered back in a ponytail. Her clothes were rather plain, but that seemed to suit her, and she had a backpack hanging from one hand. She reminded Ranma of a young Kasumi, right down to the quiet giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"Sorry." The girl shook her head, still grinning. "It's just that silk, when wet, tends to stick to the skin, so it's no wonder that you're frustrated." Her voice had an American accent, but her Japanese was flawless.

"Yeah. Somethin' like that." Ranma pulled the silk away from her breasts, scowling in disgust.

"I can lend you a shirt, I've got a spare in my pack."

"Ummm, please don't take offense at this, but I don't think any of your shirts would fit me."

"True." The girl looked down at her own chest. "I'm kinda flat."

"Trust me, it's better to be small," grumbled Ranma. "These damn things cause me no end of problems. Including backaches."

"If you wore a bra, you wouldn't have backaches." The girl ducked her head. "Sorry, that's a bit forward of me."

"No problem." Ranma shrugged. "And there's a good reason why I can't wear a bra."

"May I ask your name?"

"Saotome Ranma." She bowed to the taller girl.

"Hayase Misa. Pleased to meet you." The girl returned the bow. "I was just on my way to the beach, actually. If you've got a swimsuit, you could switch to that, and hang up the shirt to dry. Then we could go swimming."

Ranma opened his mouth to answer, then paused. The girl seemed very hungry for company...She closed her eyes, to get a feel for her aura, and noted that despite the confident face, the girl was lonely and depressed. 'Face like Kasumi, soul like Ryouga...' She opened her eyes again, and said, "You know, that sounds like a great idea. But my swimsuit's on the other side of this island, and it's gettin' kinda old. I should probably buy a new one. Where can I get a halfway decent suit in this part of town?"

* * *

"I shoulda kept my mouth shut," grumbled Ranma.

"Oh, come on!" Misa giggled. "You can't tell me you're not having any fun."

"Sure I can," said Ranma. "Watch me: I'm not having any fun."

"Just try one more."

Ranma eyed the proferred spandex and lycra article, and shuddered. "No, thank you. I'd feel like I was naked wearing that." She indicated Misa's swimsuit, thrown over the taller girl's arm. "Why can't I wear one like that?"

"Because you're better built than me, and you should flaunt it."

"Better built? I doubt that." Ranma snorted. "You're tall an' willowy. Just the sorta girl that guys are interested in."

"With your hips and bust, they won't be looking at me."

"Well, I don't want 'em lookin' at me." Ranma grabbed his first choice - a navy blue one-piece, very plain in cut. It looked like a school's regulation bathing suit, though it was not _quite_ that unflattering. "I'll just take this one, thank you very much." She grimaced. "The things I do for you..."

Misa giggled again. "All right, all right. You sound like my boyfriend when you say that."

"Boyfriend? At your age?" Ranma blinked. "You're, what, thirteen? Fourteen?"

"Fourteen." Misa nodded. "Riber and I dated for a few months, but Daddy didn't approve of him."

"Forced you to break up?"

"No." She looked down, and the depression came back full-bore. "He signed up with the UNEDF Navy, and Daddy pulled some strings. He's posted off the coast of Australia right now."

"Whoa, jet back. That makes him at least eighteen."

"Nineteen."

"No wonder your father didn't approve."

Misa looked up in shock. "Why--"

"Fathers only have one thing on their minds when it comes to their daughters: Protectin' them. Trust me, I know."

"Your father was overprotective, too?"

Ranma snorted. "Not hardly. But my...friend...her father was quite tyrannical. Especially towards me. He could do this scary demon face--quit laughin'! Trust me, if you ever saw it, ya wouldn't be laughin'! If ever he thought I was riskin' his daughter's safety, or her emotions, he'd go all psycho."

"But Riber was a perfect gentleman!" Misa shook her head. "Daddy had no reason to protect me from him."

"Gotta look at it from his point of view," said Ranma. "He has to assume that every male out there is lookin' to get into your pants. Not because they are, but because if he trusts the wrong person, even once--"

"I _know_ Daddy was just trying to protect me," broke in Misa. "But sending Riber to the ends of the Earth, just to break us up...that was mean-spirited and low."

"He mighta known somethin' about him that you don't."

"Riber and I told each other _everything_."

"He coulda been lyin'." Ranma raised a hand to forestall her next denial. "Look, this is turnin' into another Akane and Ryouga situation."

"Who?"

"Forget it. Let's just drop the subject, go pay for this thing--" She lifted the bathing suit. "--an' hit the beach, all right?"

* * *

Captain Hayase Takeshi, United Nations Earth Defense Force Maritime Command, Commanding Officer of the UNS _Shankland_, sat down before his desk with a sigh. He tapped the intercom button, and the familiar bosun's pipe, electronically reproduced but still present, sounded.

"Major Addams, please report to the Captain's quarters."

"Aye, Sir."

"Major" Scott Addams was in fact a Marine Captain, head of the _Shankland_'s four Platoons of Marines. But by Maritime tradition, dating back as far as written memory held, there could only be one Captain on a ship, and so he received an unofficial courtesy promotion to Major while on the boat. It took him five minutes to arrive, and when he did so, he had his calabash pipe in hand, smoke still wafting up from the bowl.

"Dammit, Major, no smoking in my cabin!" The Captain scowled. Major Addams shrugged, and capped the pipe with his fingers, extinguishing it, and strolled into the cabin.

"Reporting as ordered, Captain."

"Been speaking with repple-depple?"

"Yeah, they passed on a full Platoon, but they requested that they remain as a unit. I'm gonna have to frig around with the TOE something fierce to straighten this out." Addams shrugged. "Lieutenant Rico isn't gettin' any less dead, and they didn't issue me a replacement, so I'm gonna have to wear a second hat and lead Charlie Platoon myself."

"Can you take advantage of this SNAFU and shuffle Silva over to Charlie? Take Alpha yourself?"

"I could, but if I leave him where he is, I can avoid a great deal of disruption in the command structure."

Hayase considered this, weighed adding his suggestions, then said, "It's your side of the show. Mine is getting you there in the first place; how you run your own shop is your business."

"Any particular reason you ask, Captain, or did you just wanna catch up with the gossip?"

"We've got sailing orders." Hayase handed the simulated Major a folder. "Maps, satellite photos, recon data. Looks like we've found a major operation, and the brass wants us to come down on it like the hammer of Thor."

"When?"

"One week, we clear port."

"Shit." Addams stuck his pipe into his pocket, and opened the folder. "Aw, fuck. They don't ask for much do they?"

"Is there a problem?"

"Delta is on furlough. I'll need a day or two to recall them all, then we start trainin'. And I got a real problem with Delta. Their Sergeant is...well, he's like somethin' out of a bad anime."

Hayase raised his eyebrows.

* * *

"There a problem with makin' a firepit on the beach?"

Misa giggled, and said, "If there was, there'd be an uprising among the natives. They think it's their divine right to have a cookout."

"Good." Ranma started digging out a pit. "See if you can find some rocks."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I'm not a Ma'am." She bit her tongue, and added quickly, "I'm a Sergeant. I work for a livin'."

Misa dropped the rock that she'd been holding. "You're--"

"Yep." Ranma nodded. "I'm not as young as I look."

"What year were you born?"

"Nineteen seventy-eight." Ranma grinned.

"Oh, my." Misa sat down slowly. "Oh, I feel stupid now."

"Don't." Ranma shook her head. "I've had a good time today, more so than I expected, and I thank you for that. So let's forget about my age."

"Seventy-eight. So you'd be twenty-two."

"Twenty-one, actually, since I was born in March." Ranma grabbed the rock that Misa had dropped. "So I'm not really that much older than you. And you remind me of my sister-in-law. She always made me feel half my age. So shush, and get me more rocks, so I can get this barbecue running."

"Okay, Ranma-oneechan." Misa giggled as Ranma tossed a handful of sand at her. "If you're only twenty, how are you a Sergeant?"

"Natural talent. I got noticed, and promoted, quickly, what with the crisis goin' on." Ranma stood, and flexed her muscles. In the swimsuit, her muscle tone was particularly noticeable. "And it don't hurt that I'm strong enough to carry a MINIMI with no problem."

* * *

"Two _hundred_ kilograms?"

"And that's in his female form." Addams shook his head. "In male form, it's more like _three_ hundred."

"Jesus Christ."

"No shit." Addams pulled the pipe back out of his pocket. "Plus, he's forgotten more martial arts than both of us ever knew."

"Well." Takeshi leaned back in his chair and frowned. "It seems that this fellow could be a problem for us."

"According to his last CO, he wasn't really," said Addams. "A bit too gung-ho, but that's about it. They cleaned out a terrorist camp, and he kept his cool, didn't open fire when it was obvious that the defenders just wanted to surrender. But according to this--" Addams tapped the file. "There have been a few incidents when...less scrupulous individuals took advantage of his curse to get a free peep show, but he smacked them down pretty hard."

"Think he'll be a discipline problem?"

"I doubt it," said Addams. "He's soldiered pretty hard; I doubt he'll want to throw that away."

Hayase considered this, then nodded. "All right. Call up the remainder of your men that are still on furlough, and make ready for sailing."

"Aye, Sir."

Hayase stood. "I'll be going ashore for a few hours."

* * *

"Riber Frehlung." Misa was sprawled back in the sand, arms out and one leg drawn up. "I've known him almost a year. He was posted to my father's command, and as a junior officer, got invited to one of the Commodore's parties. Ironically, my father decided that he'd make a good escort for me." She chuckled. "So he squired me around the party, got me drinks, and generally made me feel like a proper young lady, instead of a typical Navy brat."

Ranma was staring out at the sea; she'd felt guilty looking at her, even though she'd not had any untoward thoughts - she was only fourteen, for chrissake, and thinking about _any_ woman in that manner still brought fresh stabs of pain.

"You said he's in Australia right now?"

"Yes. He and I continued to see each other after the party. I always figured he was just being nice to the Captain's daughter, just humouring my crush." She smiled. "But we fell in love. I admit, he's a cute boy, but..." She sighed. "Maybe I started just being attracted to his appearance, but it got to be more than that."

"Sounds better than my first meeting with--" Ranma bit down on her tongue. "I mean--"

"Oh, no." Misa chuckled. "I've been telling you all about Riber. So who do you have? Boyfriend? Husband, even?"

"I was engaged against my will."

"Oh." Misa sat up. "I'm sorry. If you don't want to talk about it--"

"No. I've kept this bottled up for almost four years." She looked down at her feet. "Our families each represented half of a school of martial arts. They engaged us against our will, but we eventually fell in love." She snorted. "It just took us most of a year to admit it. We got married, but a few weeks later...well, there was a terrorist bombing."

"Is that why you're in the service?"

"Yeah." She scowled. "I couldn't save Akane, couldn't stop the terrorists then, but I can sure as hell stop them now. No-one else will die if I can prevent it."

"What was he like?"

Ranma grinned; she'd manage to spin this out right so far. "Strong, but impulsive. Not very fast, or very dextrous, at least not compared to me. Swam like a hammer, and couldn't cook worth jack."

"Oh." Misa chuckled. "Guess you made the perfect wife for him, then."

Ranma fell back into the sand, laughing. Misa stared at her, baffled.

"What?"

"Akane was really sensitive when it came to cooking. It was a source of strife between us that I was the better cook." Ranma caught her breath and wiped her eyes. "And you're not the first person to say that about us." She glanced over at Misa. "You're a lot luckier than me. You already know that you two are in love, and you know you'll see him again. What's half a planet, after all?"

Misa looked down at her feet. "I guess you're right. But still..." She shuffled her feet in the sand. "Daddy really didn't approve of him. He told me to stop seeing him, and it was the first time that Daddy and I have had a real fight. Mom died years ago, so long ago I can't even remember what she looked like. So I didn't really have anyone to talk to about this."

"What about other family members? Or your friends?"

Misa smiled sadly. "With Daddy constantly on the move, I've never been any place long enough to make any real friends. When you know you won't be at any one school for more than a year, you learn not to make close friends. It just hurts when you have to leave them behind."

"Yeah." Ranma nodded. "It was the same way with me. Pops kept me on the move, never more than a few months anywhere, when we were on the training trip. I never had any friends, and all the social skills I have were beaten into me by Akane."

"Not literally, I hope."

"Yes, literally." Ranma rubbed her head in remembered pain. "I was just plain awful when we met. I needed re-education in the worst way. And I'm tough; I can take a lot of pain. Which was good, because pain was Akane's favourite training tool."

"That's awful!" Misa leaped to her feet. "How could you let someone that strong, who supposedly loved you, treat you like that?"

"Remember, we were both martial artists, among the best in our generation. For that matter, I was probably _the_ best in my generation. Pain is an educational tool for any martial artist; it was just that Akane used it to correct my social...inadequacies." She shrugged. "Really, I did need it. An' it was effective."

"Still..." Misa shook her head in disbelief. "If you were better, why did you let it happen?"

"Because I knew it was the right thing for me. Because I knew when I screwed up. An' because I was so much better, I didn't want to hurt Akane."

"That's what they call enabling behaviour," stated Misa. "The abused--"

"Whoa." Ranma raised a hand. "I wanna call this to a halt, okay? I didn't feel abused, and I don't now."

"You're just blinded by survivor's guilt--"

"No." Ranma shook his head. "Don't. Stop right there."

Misa deflated, and sat back down. "I'm sorry, Ranma. I don't really have the right to judge you. Or Akane."

"You weren't there. Trust me," said Ranma. "The situation was not what you believe, okay? Now can we drop this subject, and get back to somethin' better?"

"Okay." Misa thought, and then asked, "So did you have any real close friends?"

"The closest I had was Ryouga." Ranma snorted. "Even he wasn't really a friend. He was a rival martial artist, determined to beat me."

"Was he any good?"

"Oh, quite." Ranma grinned. "We spent a lot of time whalin' the stuffin' out of each other. Had a lot of good times."

"Your idea of a good time seems to differ from mine," observed Misa dryly.

"Whenever we fought, we both improved," said Ranma. "We were the only challenge that either of us had. An' when the chips were down, we fought alongside each other. So we were sorta friends."

"I don't have any real friends, or even a real rival," said Misa. "What few friends I had, Daddy tended to scare off. Not intentionally, mind you."

"That so?" Ranma dug into her pants pocket - it was bunched up on one corner of the blanket, so the fishing about took more time than she wanted. "Here."

Misa took the offered card. "What--"

"My eMail address." Ranma grinned. "Write to me, okay? 'Cause I think we both could use a friend."

"Even though I'm only fourteen--"

"Crap." Ranma waved a dismissive hand. "We've already settled that, ain't we? Think of me as an older sister. If ever ya need to talk about somethin', don't hesitate to write, okay?"

"Ranma..." Misa's eyes teared up. "Thank you. This means more than you know."

"I think I do know. I've been just as lonely as you." Ranma grinned. "And next time we're in the same port, we can hang out again."

"I'd like that." Misa grinned in return. "Thank you."

"Do ya know where you're goin' next?"

"Nowhere, for a while. Daddy's ship is taking on supplies right now. So I'll be staying here in Hawai'i with my governess for a while."

"What ship does he have?"

"The _Shankland_."

"No way." Ranma sat bolt upright. "No freakin' way!"

"What?"

"Just before I headed out today--" Ranma dug back into the pants. "I got new orders. To report aboard the _Shankland_ before midnight."

"Oh!"

"Misa."

Both turned at the new voice. It was a tall man, dressed in the duty uniform of the UNEDF Maritime Command, "Daddy!" Misa jumped to her feet. "Oh, I was worried that I wouldn't get to see you before you sailed!"

"I had to come ashore to file some paperwork, so I figured I'd find you, and see if we could have a bit of dinner together before we sail." The Captain glanced down at the firepit. "But I see that you and your new friend have already eaten."

Ranma was scrabbling back into her clothing as fast as she could. There could be worse ways to meet your new CO, but she couldn't think of one just now.

"Yes, Daddy. Sorry, I didn't know you were coming, or--"

"That's all right. We can just visit. Care to introduce me to your friend?"

_Oh, please say no..._

"Daddy, this is Sergeant Saotome Ranma."

_Crap._

"Saotome...Ranma?" Captain Hayase's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, she's been assigned to your ship, and we've had a good time today--Daddy? What's wrong?"

Hayase shook his head, as though to clear it. "Nothing, honey. Listen, can I talk to the Sergeant for just a moment?"

"Business talk?" Misa giggled. "Sure. I'll go wait in the car." She grabbed her stuff and ran up the beach.

"Sergeant."

Ranma came to attention. "Sir."

"Off the record and forgetting rank, what the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?"

"Makin' friends, Sir." Ranma scowled. "Misa says she don't have many, and I can _feel_ the depression comin' offa her."

"You are a male sergeant, twenty years old; you ought to know better than to be spending time with a fourteen-year-old female civilian. Especially my daughter!"

"Since we're forgettin' rank, _Sir_, I suggest you hear the facts before you go slingin' accusations," snapped Ranma. "I've been in my female form all day, ain't never touched her - I mean literally, not even when we were horsin' around in the water. I've been playin' the big sister bit. And don't forget, _Sir_, that my wife hasn't been dead four years yet. It's far too early for me to be thinkin' of anythin' like that. _Especially_ when it's a fourteen-year-old civilian. And I didn't know she was your daughter."

"The propriety of the situation is--"

"Don't matter to me, Sir. I met someone who was very lonely, and wanted a friend. I decided I could be that friend."

Captain Hayase scowled, then stepped back. "Report aboard _Shankland_ as soon as you are able, Sergeant, and report to Major Addams. I shall ignore this...indiscretion...provided it does not happen again." He paused. "You're hair's getting too long, too. Report to the ship's barber once you're on board."

Ranma sighed. "Yes, Sir."

* * *

Whatever the discussion was that Ranma and her father were having, thought Lisa, it wasn't friendly. Most likely, it concerned her. She looked down at the card in her hand, then carefully tucked it down the front of her swimsuit.

_What Daddy doesn't know, he can't forbid._

* * *

"You rang, Sir?"

"Major." Captain Hayase nodded. "Have you prepared your deployment pattern yet?"

"Not yet." Addams shook his head. "We've plotted out the most likely ingress route, but you can bet the terrorists will be reading the same maps, and will have it heavily defended."

"I want Delta Platoon to take spearhead," said Hayase. "Send them right up that route."

Addams paused. "Sir, that route is gonna be a meatgrinder. I mean, it's the best way in, but there's dozens of places to put machine gun nests."

"You've told me that Delta is a veteran unit, and their Sergeant is as tough as they come," said Hayase. "If we can knock out their command post and defenses quickly, it will mean the least overall casualties for the rest of our Marines."

"Sir...you've always left the ground side of the operation to me," said Addams slowly. "So if you have a good reason for making changes to my plan--"

"I want to see how tough this Platoon really is," said Hayase. "And I want this base taken down post haste. I want the forces there in custody, within six hours of us hitting the beach."

"That's impossible."

"This Sergeant Saotome does six impossible things before breakfast on a daily basis." Hayase smirked. "This time...he'll have until lunch."

* * *


	5. Chapter Four: Recon Platoon Delta

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Four: Recon Platoon Delta**

**March 17th, 1999**

_Dear Ranma,_

_I know, you don't normally write eMail like it's regular post mail, but I learned to write letters properly, and I don't feel like changing just for eMail._

_Anyway, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday - I know, it's not until tomorrow, but hey, you might not get this until then. Daddy sent me an eMail to tell me your group has been delayed, and won't be hitting the island before tomorrow, so I'll also take this chance to wish you good luck._

_Daddy had strong words about me spending time with you. He wouldn't tell me why, just that it wasn't appropriate. Guess he's worried about the age difference, or maybe because you're his subordinate. But he doesn't know I'm sending you eMail, and as much as I'd like to keep these, I have to delete them before Daddy gets home. Maybe I'll print them off, and stick them in my diary. He never looks in there._

_Anyway, good luck, and happy birthday, and try not to get hurt._

_Sincerely,_

_Hayase Misa_

* * *

Ranma grinned; it was four hours later where Misa was. So she must have sent the eMail about nine o'clock. He saved the message to permanent storage, set a file lock on it - he quite doubted the Captain would be snooping in his troops' private messages, but why take chances? - and closed the terminal.

"Sarge." Captain Addams - "Major" Addams while shipboard. "Briefing in ten minutes."

"Aye, Sir." Ranma grabbed his clipboard off of the desk, and stood. "Be right with you."

* * *

"Elements of the PLO, the Mujaheddin and the FJA were spotted boarding a cargo vessel off Hawai'i." Addams clicked his remote, and a picture flashed up on the screen. "This individual in particular is most wanted; he was the leader of the FJA, just before they turned nasty. We don't know if he still holds a position of power within the FJA, but we are certain he will have information we want."

Ranma clenched a fist under the briefing table; finally, a crack at the Free Japan Alliance!

Another click, and a satellite photo appeared on the screen. "The cargo vessel was tracked to this island, rather off the path for its listed route. We were lucky enough to catch photos of it launching small craft, which appear to be heading straight for the island. Of course, satellite imagery isn't good enough to recognize people. Maybe next week." Addams smirked. "But given that on our next pass, we observed weapons training, we can assume that there is a terrorist camp on the island." He clicked again, and the image zoomed in. "Unfortunately, the satellite lacked infrared capability, and the canopy is too thick to spot the camp. However, we suspect it to be in this saddle."

"So we need to scout it out first." It was Sergeant O'Toole who spoke.

"Affirmative. Lieutenant Ibuki, you and Delta Platoon will perform the recon."

"Aye, Sir."

"This is not to be a recon in force, Ibuki. Weapons on safe, unless you are fired upon." Addams clicked again, back to the wider view. "Alpha and Bravo Platoons will encircle the island, going here and here." He indicated the spots with a laser pointer. "We will await a report from Delta. Charlie Platoon will remain on the boat as our reserve."

"Begging your pardon, Sir." Ranma raised his hand. "Having a canoe this size heave up on the beach isn't the most stealthy way of approaching the island. I know we're a low-rider, but when we beach, we're gonna make noise."

"I am aware of that, Sergeant. Do you have a better idea?"

"Matter of fact, yes, Sir. Delta Platoon is fully SCUBA trained. We can go ashore by dive tug well before the boat beaches."

Major Addams nodded. "Good idea, Sergeant. Ibuki, your thoughts on this?"

Lieutenant Ibuki was a young officer, having come up through the Academy, but he'd at least learned to listen to his NCOs. He considered the idea, then said, "Sounds like that scene in _The Rock_. The only caveat is that it will make life hard for my pigmen. Including Sergeant Saotome."

"Especially Sergeant Saotome."

Ranma snorted. "Just means I'll be smaller and more stealthy."

"You mean you'll attract more attention," replied Ibuki.

A chuckle ran around the briefing room. Despite Ranma's fears, the Marines were more or less uninterested in the curse, aside from the fact that it gave them an attractive, curvy girl to leer at. They were too disciplined, too professional, to do anything more than leer, but even the low level of crap he'd had to deal with in the Army because of the curse didn't exist here.

Ibuki continued. "None of my pig-men will really enjoy this. The MINIMI doesn't take well to water. We'll need to shroud them before departure, and un-shrouding them on the beach is gonna make noise. But it sounds like the best plan we got."

"Make it so."

"Aye, Sir."

* * *

Ranma released the dive tug, and swam the last ten meters under her own power. The rest of her Squad were still attached to the tug, but she wanted to be the first on the beach.

The cap she wore had several strands of what looked just like seaweed, and the oddly-shaped goggles were low-reflective. Between the two, they'd disguise her outline sufficiently that a careful observer who spotted her might mistake her for a sea otter, or a clump of vegetation...anything but a human. She slowly scanned the beach, then slipped out of the water.

The rest of the Squad made landfall right behind her, and she waved one of them - a Private Roger Brown - forward with her. The two of them made a quick circuit of the landing point, just enough to determine that they were in fact not observed.

"Okay." She spoke in a very low voice, but didn't whisper; whispers carry a surprising distance. "Break out the gear."

The soldiers carried, for the most part, the HK-8 assault rifle. Surprisingly rugged and very reliable, all they needed was a quick shake out to render them ready for service. Ranma's MINIMI was a bit more fragile, and had been wrapped in a plastic shroud and heat-sealed against water. She quickly cut the shroud away, unsealed her first box of ammo and clipped it to the gun. As she did so, she glanced about, seeing the second Squad beaching some distance away.

The Lieutenant ghosted over to her; whatever his failings as an officer, which weren't that many really, he was excellent in stealth. "Both Squads report ready, Sarge."

"Thanks, Looie. How you want to handle this?"

"We have three hours before they bring the hammer down." Ibuki rolled out the plasticized maps. "Checkpoint Able is here, Checkpoint Baker here. You take your Squad, proceed to Able. Second will then advance to Baker. Don't dawdle."

"Yes, Sir." Ranma turned and waved her senior Corporal forward. "Brigham, roving overwatch?"

Brigham nodded. "Yeah. I'll lead off." He looked pointedly at the Lieutenant, and said, "Give us twenty seconds after we move."

Ibuki watched the Corporal slip back to his men, and said, "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"Just a wee bit, Sir." Ranma nodded. "We shoulda discussed this on the boat, not on the beach."

"Thanks, Sarge." Ibuki rolled up the map. "Brigham's moving."

"Port Section!" She whispered now, and raised a hand. "Overwatch for Starboard. Go."

Twenty soldiers in First, two of them Corporals and two more Privates, First Class. They slipped out in groups of five, close together, but not so close that they looked like a parade. Ranma eyeballed them as they moved, tagged one or two mentally as needing a bit more training in stealth, and brought up the rear, MINIMI at the ready.

It took them fifteen minutes to reach Checkpoint Able, with not a sign of enemy movement. Ranma paused at the checkpoint, and pulled out her binoculars. She scanned the foliage, and cursed.

"What does that look like to you, Brigham?"

"Duck blind." Brigham scowled. "I doubt the inhabitants are after duck, though."

Ranma waved over her radioman, and softly said, "Signal to Second: Able."

The radioman nodded, and clicked on the radio. "Able." Just one word. Seconds later, Ranma saw the lead elements of Second advancing through the weeds. They would pass her point, coming to Checkpoint Baker, several hundred meters in advance of her, then provide cover if needed as Ranma's unit advanced past them again.

The Lieutenant was in the lead of Second, but stopped at Checkpoint Able. "We spotted a machine gun nest ahead."

"Yeah, I saw it." Ranma sighed. "We won't be able to sneak past it."

"How close can you get?"

Ranma snorted. "Close enough to steal their breakfast."

"Good. Can you booby-trap it?"

"I wouldn't want to," said Ranma. "It'll make noise. And knockin' them out will just make them miss their call-in. I think we've got a problem, Sir."

"Checkpoint Congo is practically right underneath them." Ibuki scowled. "I'm starting to think we're not gonna pull this off."

"Bad news for the strike force," said Ranma. "Can we use a different approach?"

"No..." Ibuki pulled out his map. "See, we've got this hill along here...we'd be exposed if we went over it, and there's probably more bad news on the other side, so that's out. Going the other way would mean backtracking, and that would eat up more time than we have."

"Okay. How about this?" Ranma grinned. "I'll sneak right on past 'em, do the recon myself, and report back by radio."

"Ballsy." Ibuki considered his options, and said, "Fine. What are you taking for gear?"

"Just a walkie-talkie." She started peeling down. "A quick roll in the mud and leaves for camo. The MINIMI would just slow me down, an' I'm almost as dangerous without it as I am with it." She paused. "Ya know, I realize that I'm hot as a chick, but ya mind not starin' at my tits, Sir?"

"Sorry."

"No problem, Sir." She chuckled. "Don't know why anyone would look at me with this stupid cue-ball haircut anyway..." She grabbed a couple of handsful of mud. "You wanna do my back?"

* * *

The mud was not applied randomly. With it rubbed in in a tiger-stripe pattern, and some leaves caked in, and a lot more of both in what remained of her hair, Ranma looked like something the c-c-c-furry demon from hell dragged in. It broke up her outline, and by the time she was three meters away, she was invisible to any observer, enemy or friendly.

Which suited her just fine, since she was almost naked.

_At least I don't need to use the Umi-Sen-Ken._

She paused at the machine-gun nest, and carefully deprived it of all its ammo, relocating the rounds five meters away from the site. The inhabitants had no idea that she was there, and wouldn't until and unless they tried to use their weapons. Five minutes later, she located a second nest. This one, she undermined the foundations. If they opened up with the guns, the entire thing would collapse.

The third one, she could do nothing about; the two crewmembers were more alert than their counterparts. She quietly radioed in its position, and set up a flare mine and tripwire. If they fired the gun, they would at least advertise their position clearly.

Finally, she crested a ridge, and looked into the camp itself.

Six small huts, their tops carefully camouflaged against satellite imagery. A weapons range, and she saw ten men - all of them were male - practicing weapons fire. She sneered at their marksmanship, but noted that all of them were using full-auto. You didn't need to aim when firing twelve rounds per second.

One hut was significantly larger than the other; she snuck underneath it, and pressed her ear to the floor above her.

"--care how they figured it out. The point is, that damn boat is on its way."

Lucky. They were speaking Japanese, though the fellow she'd just heard had an odd accent.

"How long before they hit the beach?"

"Probably by ten. Just our luck that Nguyen warned us."

"How did _he_ know?"

"Satellites. The Chinese have some nice ones, can even spot subs, and we've been getting their take for a while."

"Well, their most likely approach is from the east beach, and we've got spotters all along there, along with gun crews. We've got over a hundred men ready and waiting for them. As long as they don't send a full battalion, they're gonna swear they were dropped into a meat grinder."

"Idiot. We're not talking half-assed JSDF troops here. These are the fucking _Marines_. United Nations forces, armed to the teeth with cutting-edge weaponry. They probably already know where your gun crews are hidden--"

Yep. At least some of them, anyway.

"--and they'll hammer those crews with ship bombardment."

Well, the _Shankland_ had a six-inch, but it was a relic. Probably they'd have to send Delta to take out the gun crews that she'd missed, just to take the beach.

"So what the hell do we do?"

"Evacuate. We'll pull your crews back, get them to the boat, and get away from here before the UN ship makes landfall."

Okay, this was going to seriously bugger the mission. She couldn't let that happen, not with the FJA right in the palm of her hand. She clicked on the radio, hit the mute button, and started tapping the Morse key.

* * *

"Signal from Sergeant Saotome." The radioman raised a hand. "Morse. Wait...'Surprise compromised. Enemy about to retreat. Advise Delta move against them.' And she's repeating it, Sir."

"Goddamn." Ibuki sighed. "The Captain ain't gonna be happy with us. Can you give me secure to the _Shankland_?"

"You're live."

Ibuki picked up the mic. "Two-Four, this is Delta-Three."

"_Two-Four. Go ahead._"

"Enemy forces are preparing to bug out. Repeat, enemy forces are preparing to retreat. Recommend Delta Platoon takes the island. Go ahead."

There was a brief pause, then, "_Two-Four. Proceed. Go ahead._"

"Proceed, aye. Delta-Three, clear." He clicked off the mic. "Corporal, instruct your fire-teams to take out the machine gun nests."

* * *

The muffled _crump_ of the grenade launchers told Ranma more clearly than any radio messsage that her suggestion had been accepted. She listened as the residents of the camp started running about aimlessly.

The voice of the camp commander - at least, that was who she assumed it was - cut over the din. "Get the ammo into the first boats, get them away first. No, wait. Get Tatsu in here, and hold the first boat for him."

"He's on his way." There was a brief pause, then the sound of the door opening, and a new voice.

"Joachim, what the hell is--"

"We're evacuating. We need to get you out with the first boat."

"Kozo told me that much, but he--"

"Take these." A rustling of papers. "Get them to your people in Japan. Our organization is willing to assist, provided you turn over at least two of the devices to us."

Devices?

"They don't come cheap--"

"Neither do the lives of my men. Remember that, Tatsu. These weapons are out bargaining chip, and unless we can spread them throughout the target countries, we won't be able to use them effectively."

"I want one in Tokyo, one in Seoul--"

"Yes. We will be placing ours in Madrid. Our Mexican brethren will be moving theirs to California, and the Italians will be wanting one to plant in Germany."

"Which one will be detonated first?"

"Probably the Tokyo device, for maximum overkill. We want them scared. Even if the blast fails to cause sufficient casualties, the fallout and radiation will add to it in great numbers."

Ranma could not repress a shudder, as it became painfully clear that the two men above her were talking about _nuclear weapons_. Like any other Japanese person, Ranma had a loathing of nuclear arms that went far beyond what person of another nationality would expect. The only country ever to be targeted by these weapons, the Japanese people had, in a resounding moment of unity, declared that they would never use them.

Except this Tatsu fellow, who was willing to murder twenty-five million people to make a political point.

This was the moment. She knew that, now. Every moment since the blast that had ended Akane's life led to this point. Now, to redeem herself, she could save the lives of twenty-five million strangers.

No. Not yet. First, she had to do her duty as a sergeant of the United Nations Marine Corps. Again, she tapped out her coded message on the walkie-talkie.

* * *

"Signal from Sergeant Saotome. 'Enemy has acquired...'" The radioman trailed off. "Sir, I'm really wishing I could confirm this."

"Negative, Private. You'll give away her position."

"Aye, Sir. 'Enemy has acquired special weapons and are prepared to use them in a terrorist attack.'"

"Fuck. It's _Thunderball_, except for real." Ibuki rose to a half-crouch, and waved the First Section forward. "Take the camp, now!"

* * *

Ranma took three deep, cleansing breaths, grasped the floor joists, and kicked herself through the floorboards.

At times of stress, the human mind tends to see events in small, disjointed segments. Time seems to slow to a crawl, though one's own actions are just as slowed as those around. For the martial artist, this effect is sought after, desired, as it improves one's ability to grasp the moment and act accordingly. For Ranma, her speed was high enough that she seemed, to herself, to be moving at normal speeds.

Her opponents were not so fortunate.

Ranma's feet caught Tatsu straight up into his crotch. He folded like a cheap beach chair, collapsing to the ground and grasping his groin. Ranma, in the meantime, continued to fly straight up, turning a somersault in midair to land on her feet.

Joachim was less flat-footed than his companion. He stepped back and fell into a combat stance, though the look of shock on his face belied any warning. Obviously, he'd not expected a mud-covered, mostly-naked woman to come flying out of his floor. His stance and reaction time demonstrated that at some point, he'd practiced some martial art or another. Ranma grinned; this would make his beat-down just that more satisfying.

Ranma feinted, more to get a measure of this guy's skill, and Joachim blocked, a high-hand move that tickled Ranma's memory. Ranma threw a second punch, this time for effect, and again was parried. Joachim followed up the parry with a front snap kick, which Ranma dodged, and then a sweeping kick, with the same leg, that she ducked.

She had the style pegged now. She threw a kick of her own, and recovered badly from the block, leaving an obvious opening. He fell for it, throwing a kick to her side. She snagged it, and tossed him backwards. He described most of a full circle in mid-air before crashing to the floor.

Her danger sense pinged, and she leaned to the side as the _crack_ of a pistol filled the room. She pivoted, her left foot coming around and smacking the sidearm from Tatsu's hand. Joachim was starting to rise; a step forward and an axe-kick put him back on the ground. She dropped to one arm, her legs sweeping out and back to knock Tatsu down as well, and she rolled to come to rest with one knee on his chest. She cocked a fist above his head, waited until he realized his position.

She grinned wolfishly. "This is for Akane."

The fist came down.

* * *

"One boat got away." Corporal Evans safed his rotary grenade launcher. "The MINIMIs got some hits on it, but it's still moving, and it's out of our fire range."

"All right. Good work, Corporal." Ibuki glanced over at the camp. "What about those idiots in the armory?"

"We've got them holed up, but they've got all the ammo they'll need to hold us off until Judgement Day." Evans scowled. "Corporal Brigham has his fire-team on that, but they can't just open up, or they'll risk cooking off the ammo in there. And we still don't know where Sergeant Saotome is."

Ibuki nodded. "Well, she knows how to avoid fire. We'll--Oh." Ibuki chuckled. "Here she comes."

Indeed, the aforementioned Sergeant was approaching them, a body in each hand. She'd grasped them by the belt, and was forced to carry them high to avoid dragging them on the ground, even though they were doubled over. She marched up to Ibuki.

"Lieutenant. I hope you'll forgive me for not saluting."

"Not a problem, Sergeant. You're not wearing your cover anyway. Or much else."

"With all due respect, Sir, stop starin' at my tits." She grinned, and tossed the larger of her two burdens at his feet. "This guy is the base commander here. And this asshole..." She tossed the smaller one down. "He's the guy that was gonna nuke Tokyo."

Ibuki raised his eyebrows. "You dragged two corpses out here because...?"

"Not corpses, Sir." Ranma shook her head. "Prisoners. Now, you wanna hand me my jacket, or at least some hot water, Sir? I'm feelin' a bit self-conscious."

"Didn't bring my tea-kit." Ibuki tossed her a jacket. "Here. Now, we got this problem over in the ammo shed."

"Ammo shed? Blow it up."

"We don't know how far the shrapnel's going to fly." Ibuki shook his head. "So we'd really rather not do that."

"Sir, there's, what, forty of us?" Ranma jerked a thumb towards the hills. "We can take cover, blow it from a distance."

"We're supposed to take as many prisoners as we can--"

"We can be cops, or we can be Marines, Sir. I don't see a third--Hey."

"An idea?"

"No." Ranma rubbed her ear. "You hear somethin'?"

Ibuki paused, and said, "Yeah." He shouldered his rifle, took a step towards the bay. "Is _Shankland_ starting her beaching?"

"That ain't a diesel engine, Sir," said Ranma. "We've lived cheek-by-jowl with one of them for the last year, and that don't sound like one. Sounds like..."

"A jet?"

"Still too low-pitched. I dunno what--" Ranma broke off, and pointed at the ground. "Shit. It's an earthquake."

"Everyone!" Ibuki turned and yelled. "Into the open! Out of the buildings, away from the trees, we got an earthquake coming!"

"Rocks dancin', trees shakin'...yeah." Ranma glanced around. "Third Squad is still..." She looked up. "No. Not an earthquake. Look, Sir!"

Ibuki followed her glance.

The horizon to the east was glowing like a sunrise, though the sun was already well overhead. He stared, open-mouthed, as a billowing line of fire cut across the sky, crossing south of them at ridiculous speed. The shockwave of its passage shook the island like a dog shaking a bone. He saw the huts collapsing, the ammo shed exploding as the vibrations tore through it.

The heatwave from the object's passage hit next, kindling the dry trees and causing them to burst into flame. The ground bucked beneath his feet, knocking him over.

"Get to higher ground!" Sergeant Saotome grabbed his arm, dragged him vertical again. "Move, Sir! All troops, proceed to the hills. Get as high as you can! Now, now, now!"

"Saotome, what--"

"Tsunami. I can see it comin', we got maybe sixty seconds. Move!"

* * *

The lookout fumbled his field glasses to his eyes, then tossed them aside and yelled, "Tsunami off the port bow, ten o'clock!"

"Left standard rudder, all ahead full!" The exec snapped out the order by instinct, then glanced over at the lookout. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"No, Sir, we got a big wave coming in!"

"Fuck." The exec stabbed the comm. "Captain to the bridge, tsunami incoming."

"I'm here, Leon." Captain Hayase stepped onto the bridge deck, still closing his jacket. He grabbed the PA mike. "All crew, below decks and secure for weather." He hung up the mike. "Rudder amidships. All ahead flank. Crewman Jacobsen. Report."

"Tsunami coming from the south, Sir, following the path of the meteor."

"What meteor?"

"It went overhead a minute or so ago. Shockwave shook the ship."

"I'd just thought we'd hit some chop." Hayase eyeballed the approaching wave, and picked up the mike again. "All hands, brace for impact, ten seconds." He dropped into his chair, and quickly buckled himself in.

_Shankland_ struck the wall of water bow-on, pitching up as she did so. The wave swamped the forward deck completely, and the Captain pulled his cap down over his eyes. The bridge windows shattered, spraying the bridge crew with shards of glass propelled by the massive wave. Then they were through, the _Shankland_ listing badly to port. Screams could now be heard on the bridge, and the Captain adjusted his cap again.

"Corpsman to the bridge. Damage control parties to the weather deck." He unbuckled himself and stood up, wincing as he did so. He glanced down, saw a shard of glass protruding from his leg, staining his white uniform pants with blood. "Leon?"

"Exec's down, Sir." The helmsman, Petty Officer David, was crouched next to the Commander. "Knocked his head against the hatch when it popped."

"All right, Corpsman is on his way. PO David, contact all section leaders and see how bad our casualties are."

"Aye, Sir."

The Captain limped to the helm column, and ran the telegraph back down to half speed. He tapped an internal comm. "ChEng, report."

"_What the fuck was that?_" The Chief Engineer sounded shaken.

"Tsunami. How are we faring in your department?"

"_Three crewmen knocked about, but no real casualties. Portside engine is drowned. We'll get it drained out in five minutes. The entire portside crew compartment is flooded. Bailing pumps already started, and we'll have trim again in twenty or thirty minutes._"

"Alert me when you have the portside engine up again."

"_Aye Sir._"

Hayase released the intercom stud, and stared at the blackened strip of sky ahead.

* * *

Ranma glanced around her gathering troops.

"Where's the Lieutenant?"

"No idea." Corporal Evans looked to be in shock. "Brigham's missing too, as well as the entire Fourth Squad."

"What about the bad guys?"

"We didn't leave too many alive, Sarge." Evans looked down at the body at his feet. "This little prick, I dragged up this fucking hill, but the bigger guy was still down there."

The saddle between the two hills was still awash, though it was draining. The camp was just plain gone, swept away by the massive wave.

"How many effectives we got?"

"Between the waves and the bad guys...well, we're down to fifteen men. Aside from ourselves." Evans scowled. "I thought you had the Lieutenant."

"We got separated." Ranma sighed. "Radio?"

"We can contact _Shankland_, but they've probably got their hands full."

"Yeah."

"Sarge!" Private Velikovsky waved, and Ranma trotted over.

"Lieutenant!" Ranma knelt beside the man, and felt at his throat. "Got a pulse." She sat back. "Medic!"

Ibuki groaned. "Sarge--"

"Keep quiet, Sir, the medic is on his way. I think you're gonna be on the sick list for a while."

"First _The Rock_, then _Thunderball_, now _Armageddon._" Ibuki grinned weakly. "Why can't I star in a porno?"

Ranma chuckled. "Because shore leave was cut short."

"Sarge." Evans dropped the radio pack beside Ranma. "_Shankland_ on the horn."

"Thanks, Mike." Ranma grabbed the telephone-shaped mouthpiece. "Delta-Two."

"_How did you make out through that weather, Sergeant?_"

"Not too well, Major." Ranma sighed. "Aside from myself, we got seventeen survivors, maybe a few more on the other hill. Lieutenant Ibuki survived, but is a casualty, and I think Private Roberts is also among the walking wounded." She paused as a star-shell went up from the other island. "Okay, we got signal from south island. Wait one." She toggled the mute. "Corporal, get something for semaphore, find out who's on the other hill." She opened the channel again. "We've confirmed at least one survivor on the south hill."

"Shankland _is running at flank speed to the island. We took some knocking about, but no fatalities and no missing. Damage is limited, and ChEng has a hand on it; we'll be fully shipshape in a few more hours._"

"Some good news, anyway."

"_Good thing the Skipper knows how to drive this boat._" The simulated Major paused. "_What about the mission?_"

"One prisoner. The rest...well, if we didn't kill 'em, the wave certainly did." Ranma grinned wolfishly, and wished the Major could see it. "But this one goon we _did_ capture...he's worth the rest. Trust me on this."

"_How do you mean, Sarge?_"

"I mean this asshole's gonna justify everythin' we do, Sir. Capturin' him made my _decade._"

* * *

_Dear Misa,_

_I'll humour you, and write my eMails the same way. Why not? It's good practice learning my Basic._

_We came through our mission pretty good, though I can't tell you a lot more than that, due to operational security. Your pop decided to drop my team into a bad situation. No sweat, though. My team is the best. We ended up doing the whole job ourselves._

_I wasn't sure if I could tell you what happened next, but then I saw it on the TV. Something, like a giant meteor or such, smacked into the Earth. Well, it overflew us, and the tidal wave and flash fires it caused did us some damage. Your pop turns out to be the best boat driver in the Pacific, though. He steered the boat right through the wave like a surfer or something. He picked us up, and we're steaming out to help out another boat - I can't tell you which one, sorry. But after that...well, we're in the best shape in this part of the Pacific._

_I'd bet anything from yen to Nabiki's private files that we're going to be sent out to check out the impact site._

_Sincerely, Saotome Ranma._

* * *


	6. Chapter Five: On The Dawn Of A New Era

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Five: On The Dawn Of A New Era**

**March 24th, 1999**

_Dear Ranma,_

_That was a pretty rotten trick that Daddy pulled, placing you and your men right in the worst of the fight. I'm pretty sure that it's because he doesn't like you, which is weird, because you seem like a nice girl. Even if you were some hoodlum boy with a bunch of tattoos or something, though, sending you out to get shot like that is just plain nasty._

_The TV networks are talking about nothing but the meteor, or whatever it was. They say that the force of it passing over New York basically levelled the city. It started a big fire over the Ozarks, broke every window in San Francisco, and here in Pearl. Don't worry, I'm all right. Maya and I were in Alberta when it happened. The world's biggest mall. You'd hate it. I know you loathe shopping._

_Funny thing is, I looked at some maps, and drew some lines. For the places that were damaged when the meteor, or whatever it was, it's impossible for a simple ballistic trajectory to hit all of them. The meteor, or whatever it was, must have changed directions at least one, possibly twice._

_Which means it's less likely to be a meteor, and more likely to be a whatever it was._

_Anyway, take care of yourself when you get to it._

_Your friend, Hayase Misa._

* * *

"Looks like a ship, Sir."

"Glasses."

The lookout handed Captain Hayase the field glasses, and he raised them to his eyes. It took him a second to find the focus; his eyes weren't as good as the Leading Seaman's.

The prow of the ship - for it was unmistakably a ship - was buried in thousands of tonnes of rock and sand. South Ataria was an overgrown coral reef, millions of years old, and had risen above the waves through tectonic activity. The base was dead coral, the limestone formed through natural sedimentary processes. How it had survived the impact was a bit of a mystery in itself.

He traced the lenses back, adjusting the focus as he did. A conning tower of some sort rose up behind the prow. Slightly behind that, a massive gun turret - it could only be a gun turret, though the weapons were twisted and abbreviated by the heat of re-entry - jutted out of the bed of rock. Aft of that, two massive engine nacelles jutted outwards and upwards. He felt certain that a second gun turret, on the opposite side, lay buried under the heaped rock.

"Hull took a pounding, but looks like it survived. I'd bet that if the equipment inside survived the deceleration trauma, it's pretty advanced." Hayase lowered the field glasses. "What does security look like on this, Leon?"

"The United Nations has called an emergency session, and the last of the delegates required for a quorum would have arrived this morning." Commander Leon Tremblay was back on his feet, but looked as though he'd prefer not to be. "My guess is that they're going to declare this object property of the United Nations. South Ataria is officially uninhabited, and therefore belongs to the UN."

"What about unofficial inhabitants?"

"Never heard of them, but just as a guess..." Tremblay indicated the ship, and the destroyed island. "If there were any, they won't be speaking up about this."

"Signal from flag, Captain." Radioman Davis turned from his console. "One UH-1D inbound, five minutes out, requesting clearance to land."

"Mister Tremblay, take us to flight quarters."

Tremblay nodded. "Flight quarters, aye." He flipped a switch, and a horn sounded. "Smoking lamp is extinguished topside." Down on the deck, cigarettes went flying over the rail. "Helm, bring us to one fifteen, increase to flank."

"Nice of them to give us enough warning," grumbled Hayase.

"They did, Sir, if only just."

With her bow turned into the wind, and speed at maximum, the ship had enough speed, relative to the wind, to allow an easy landing for the Huey. Hayase watched as the helicopter's pilot touched down cleanly. Four crewmen ran forward, snapping hold-downs onto the Huey's skids, and the pilot killed the engine. He scowled, staring as the passenger disembarked and marched towards the bridge.

* * *

The cook crossed his arms and scowled down at Ranma. "You know the rules about chow after mess call, Sergeant."

Ranma nodded. "Yep. Sure do, Mike."

"Just so we're clear on what regs we're breaking." The cook turned and pulled a loaf of bread off the shelf. "Myself, I favour tuna fish. But if y'all prefer, I got some spam--"

"What the heck is spam?"

"Canned ham."

Ranma shuddered. "Fish is fine."

"No problem." The cook uncapped a jar of mayonnaise. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

The cook indicated the front of Ranma's uniform. "Why do you always come down to wheedle food in female form?"

Ranma shrugged. "Always seems to work for me."

"Well, I enjoy cooking almost as much as I enjoy eating. You don't gotta work your feminine wiles on me, Sarge. Especially considerin' I know you're really male, and not into guys."

"We can't all be Navy."

The cook chuckled, and slapped a spoonful of mayo into a mixing bowl. "Might as well make up a large batch, and we can serve it on midwatch as well. You wanna grab the fish? It's just--" He was cut off by the sound of the 1-MC pipes.

"Sergeant Saotome, please report to the Captain's quarters."

"Crud." Ranma rolled her eyes. "You got some hot water around?"

"Keep a pot handy for dishes." The cook indicated a large pot, not overly tall but quite wide, resting on the stove. "I've rinsed some plates in it, but that's about it."

"It'll do." She grabbed a nearby coffee cup, scooped a cup of water, and upended it over her head. "Ouch. Damn, that's hot."

"Has to be, to kill microbes and such." The cook didn't even bat an eye at the transformation, never had. It was another thing that Ranma liked about him.

* * *

Ranma hesitated at the door. He'd avoided unnecessary contact with the Captain; he was quite certain, based on Hayase's reaction on the beach, that this was the most prudent course. However, this was not an avoidable situation. He checked his uniform, slipped the beret onto his head, and knocked.

"Come."

He undogged the hatch and stepped through, closing it behind him, and snapped off a salute. "Sergeant Saotome, reporting as ordered, Sir."

"Siddown, Sergeant. Caps off." Hayase returned the salute crisply, then removed his cap and tossed it back onto his bunk. Ranma removed his beret and tucked it under his epaulet - his off-duty uniform still retained the epaulets, for just this purpose - and sat down opposite the Captain.

"I'd like to clear the air between us, Sergeant." Hayase picked up a sheet of paper, and examined it. "Seems my daughter is very upset with me. She thinks I sent you into harm's way in an attempt to get you killed off."

Ranma could think of nothing to say about this, and chose to keep silent.

"It's nonsense, of course." Hayase grinned slightly. "Your dossier led me to believe that you could have taken the island single-handedly, but I couldn't condone sending a single man into that situation."

"Actually, Sir," offered Ranma. "I was in female form throughout that operation."

"Of course. You had a bit of a swim beforehand." Hayase nodded. "Now, the current situation. We've got a Brigadier General aboard who thinks highly of you, and he wants your team to investigate the alien ship."

Ranma's eyebrows rose.

"For my own part, I try not to muck with the ground side of any operation. I objected to this order, however. Your team got chewed up in the tsunami, and you're still lacking your squad leader. Plus, the other three Platoons got to sit on their butts throughout the prior engagement. They need the exercise." The Captain's face hardened. "However, the Brigadier decided to ignore my recommendation, and issued the order directly to Major Addams."

"So Delta is going ashore again." Ranma nodded. "When do we leave?"

"You can't go into combat without an officer. This isn't wardroom mentality; the TO&E--" The Captain referred to the Table of Organization and Equipment. "--doesn't permit this. There are good reasons, and I'd rather not ignore them."

"If I might suggest, Sir, Lieutenant Silva could lead Delta. Or even Major Addams himself."

"Unfortunately, I may have caused you further problems, Sergeant. I informed the Brigadier that Delta was without an officer, and he promptly came up with a solution."

Ranma rolled his eyes. "Tell me he ain't leadin' us himself."

"No." The Captain tossed a small cardboard chit between them.

Ranma picked up the chit. Pinned to it were two gold bars. He looked up at the Captain. "Sir, I'm a Sergeant. I ain't been through OCS, and I've never led anything larger than a Section."

"Not quite true." Hayase pulled out another piece of paper. "According to this, you were handed command of the 401st Marine Training Platoon. Acquitted yourself well. Plus, you were Top for your Platoon. While your direct responsibility was only one Section, you had control over both."

"Sir, I got three up and one down." He tapped his rank insignia, pinned to his beret. "There's no way I can be an officer."

"Field brevet. You return to your permanent rank at completion of mission." Hayase scowled. "I don't really care for this, either, but the decision was taken out of my hands. Unfortunately, arguing with me will do you no good, and Brigadier Enomoto has already left the boat. Therefore, you cannot refuse the order, cannot even argue it with the person responsible. All you can do is register a formal complaint, put on the damn butter bars, and do your best."

Ranma sighed. "Aye, Sir." He slipped the rank bars into his pocket. "When's brief?"

"Major Addams will fill you in. Oh, one other thing." The Captain dropped the page he was holding, and picked up the first one he'd examined. "If you could kindly tell my daughter that I am not trying to get you killed, I'd appreciate it."

Ranma blinked. "You knew--?"

"Of course. Do you think I'm stupid?" Hayase grinned tightly. "I'm convinced that you're not a bad guy, and Misa seems to like you. She also believes you're female, which if you don't mind we're going to keep her believing. More importantly, she's not spoken to me since we met on the beach at Pearl. I'd rather have her chatting with you than not chatting with me."

"Aye, Sir."

* * *

Ranma watched from the door of the SH-60 helicopter as two F-14 Tomcats, attached to the Americans' Task Force 65, screamed over the island. It was their third high-speed pass, and so far the jets had drawn no fire. Ranma's helicopter was being escorted by two somewhat slower aircraft, AV-8B Harrier II jump jets. Manufactured by the American McDonnell-Douglas corporation under license from Hawker-Siddley, the two VTOL jets were slow, much less maneuverable than the public believed, and loaded for air-to-ground - two packs of rockets, nineteen each per side, and two Walleye missiles.

If the massive intruder had any hostile intent, however, Ranma firmly believed that all five airplanes would be blotted from the sky in a matter of seconds.

The Tomcats came about again, passing low and slowly over the ship. Ranma would have preferred a recon flight by an RA-5, but the entire operation had been laid on in a hurry. The voice of the lead Tomcat's RIO crackled in his ear.

"No sign of any movement. We've got a hatch of some sort in the deck just aft of the conning tower. Big; looks like an aircraft elevator."

"Land there, Sir?" asked the Chief Petty Officer flying the helicopter.

"Good a place as any." Ranma snapped his dropline to the chopper's drop gear, and grabbed his MINIMI. Behind him, Platoon Delta - reinforced from its sixteen effectives to a full Section of twenty - readied their gear as well. The chopper slowed, came to a hover, and Ranma jumped out the door.

The dropline played out behind him as he fell, acting against gravity and reducing his drop speed. He tugged the handbrake, bringing himself to a halt mere inches above the surface of the alien ship, and then dropped to the metal deck. He watched as the remainder of the first Squad dropped around him, and then disconnected his line. The chopper moved forward about fifty meters, and the second Squad dropped down and formed up.

"Evans!"

"Sir." Corporal Evans had his grenade launcher up, his secondary weapon - an HK UMP10 - slung on his back.

"I want your Squad to cover this hatch. Once we get it open, we will proceed ahead of you. Sling that grenade launcher."

"Yes, Sir."

"PFC Velikovsky. Get this hatch open."

"Aye, Sir." Velikovsky waved three men forward. "We've got an electronics package here, might be door controls."

Ranma stepped back, joining First Squad, and unlimbered his big machine gun. One box of ammo was already attached; he jerked back the charging handle, bringing the first round into battery.

"No good, Sir." Velikovsky stood and trotted over to Ranma. "We got zero power on that panel, and nothing with us with enough juice to crank open that door."

"At least you could tell that much," commented Ranma.

"It ain't so alien that we can't tell it's broken."

"Can we blow the door?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Probably not. If it could survive re-entry and crashing, a bit of Semtex won't even scratch it." Ranma considered, then raised his voice. "All right. Fan out. Find another way in. When you find one, report _immediately_; do _not_ go in by yourself. Clear?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Move!"

* * *

"_Four, this is Private Road._"

"I just can't wait to promote that guy," mused Ranma. He clicked his radio. "Go ahead, Private."

"_I got a hatch on the port side of the conning tower. It's cracked open a bit; we might be able to get in through there._"

"Why didn't the Tomcats spot that?"

"_Better if you come and see, Sir._"

"All right, I'm on my way." He clicked over to the command frequency. "Brigham, Evans. Bring your teams to the port side of the tower."

"_Aye aye, Sir._"

The hatch was tilted towards the ground, and shrouded by metal; an airborne observer could easily have missed it. However, there were other factors as well. The line of the hatch zig-zagged oddly, making it look more like structural damage than an actual entrance. Plus, the size was a little difficult to grasp.

The hatch stood twenty meters tall.

Ranma looked at the crack, and nodded. "We can squeeze through that. But I'm going in first."

"Begging your pardon, Sir." Evans cleared his throat. "Since you're an officer, you can't be the first in."

"Hell with that," grumbled Ranma. "I'm a Sergeant, not an officer."

"You're brevetted, Sir. That makes you a real Lieutenant, like it or not."

"I don't like this leading-from-the-rear crap. The view sucks. All right, Evans. You first, and your team. Report back by radio."

"Aye, Sir." The Corporal waved his Squad forward. They slipped through the crack, one by one, and disappeared into the darkness within. Ranma could see flashes of light from their vest lumens as they searched the area within, and then his radio crackled.

"Sir. Area is secure. We're in some kinda staging area, and there's a staircase going down."

"Second Squad, move in." Ranma led them through the hatch.

The staging area, or whatever it was, was the size of a football field. And as Evans had indicated, there was a staircase. Each step was a full meter in height, and two meters deep.

"Doesn't look like the people in here were very small, Sir." Evans played his lumen across the stairs. "Figure forty to fifty feet high."

"We'll proceed downwards. Rapelling lines, bounding overwatch."

The lines were fixed, and Delta started moving down the stairs. Each soldier used the line to stabilize himself as he dropped down a step. It was slow going, made slower by the overwatch; each Squad paused after six steps to allow the other to overtake them.

But eventually they reached the bottom. Another massive hatch silently greeted them, but this one stood open. Beyond it was a massive compartment.

"Looks like a hangar bay, Sir." Evans played his light around the chamber. "We got some small craft. Big, larger than a Tomcat." He approached one warily. "Complex, too."

"Stay away from 'em. Leave 'em for the Intel weenies."

"Aye, Sir." He turned and waved his Squad forward. "They ain't so big that a forty-foot pilot would fit inside. Doesn't make sense."

"What about those berths down there?" Ranma pointed into the gloom. "They look a bit smaller."

"Second Squad, hold here." Evans waited until his team came to ready position, then turned back to his Lieutenant. "Brigham's team will have to look into that."

"Okay. Look sharp." Ranma trotted back to Brigham.

The Master Corporal had his radio out, and was scowling at it angrily. "Sir, we got a problem. I can't raise _Shankland_."

"On our own, I guess. Let's move forward; I want to check out those berths ahead."

"Aye, Sir." He returned the radio to his belt, and waved his team forward. They broke into a trot, advancing past Evans. Brigham turned his lumens on the first berth in the row.

"Christ in heaven."

The machine in the berth was not readily identifiable. Fins and vanes stuck out at odd angles from the mechanical nightmare. A glass canopy seemed to imply that it was a vehicle, and massive robotic hands and feet seemed to indicate a humanoid shape. But it was damaged by the crash, and it was only with some difficulty that Ranma could be certain of its original form.

"Giant robot?"

"Looks like." Brigham played his light over the form. "Thrusters on the back - you can see an exhaust port there. Those look like cannon of some sort, and there's what look like hard points for external armament, here, and here. Sensor boom there, where a head might be."

"Why the fins?"

"Dunno. Maybe for controlling its flight in atmosphere?"

"No." Ranma took a step forward. "Notice the indentations here, and the joint here. This is the same sort of craft as the ones in the earlier berths."

"Sir, the ones back there are jets of some sort, not giant--" Brigham paused. "You mean they can change the shape?"

"Why not?" Ranma flicked his light to the hand. "See, the hand folds up there, to clean up the air flow. Wing connects there."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I still ain't seein' it."

"Trust me." Ranma cracked a grin. "I'm an expert on shape-changing."

"Movement!"

Ranma whirled. "Where?"

"Far end of the hangar. Something's there, looks like--"

He saw it now, another massive robot, easily twenty meters high. This one did not seem to be transformable; it was humanoid, though lacking a recognizeable head, and a massive backpack-like arrangement protruded from around the shoulders. Blisters on the arms housed massive cannon, the muzzles protruding near the wrists. The colour scheme was the most bizarre thing about it, being pink and lavendar with green highlights.

Evans shouldered his grenade launcher, but Ranma grabbed the muzzle and forced it down to the deck. "Hold fire," he yelled. "It ain't done nothin' to us yet."

The robotic figure paused, then raised an arm, pointing the cannons at him. He dived to the side as red beams flashed from the muzzles, tearing into the deck around him. He rolled to his feet, unlimbering the MINIMI, and yelled to his troops.

"Okay, now you can shoot it."

Muzzle flares flashed brilliantly in the semidarkness of the hangar as the troops opened up on the robot. Ranma winced as a ricochet went _wheet_ past his ear. It was obvious that the small-calibre firearms were doing nothing to the 'bot. In response, the machine turned, and chest-mounted cannon on its plastron roared. The projectiles were non-explosive, but shattered quite nicely on impact, and three men were killed as fragments tore into them.

Evans' grenade launcher coughed to his left, and an HE round detonated against the machine's armour, peeling back armour on the torso. Ranma lowered the machine gun, and grabbed his radio.

"Velikovsky!"

"_Da, tovarishch?_"

"LAWs, now!"

The LAW was a light antitank weapon, single shot and disposable. Four of Ranma's Section carried them, all in PFC Velikovsky's Lance. Ranma dodged again as the machine fired on his position, then dove behind one of the ruined transformable robots.

Four LAW rockets slammed into the back of the machine, staggering it. The report of the high-explosive shaped charge warheads was deafening in the confines of the hangar. The machine straightened up, though Ranma's practised eye spotted hesitation in its movements, and turned towards Velikovsky's position. Hatches flipped open on the machine's hips, and the contrails of missiles streaked towards the fire support Lance.

Ranma roared his battle rage, dropped the MINIMI, and leaped towards the machine.

_Giant-ass robot, but it ain't invulnerable._

The robot turned towards him, missile hatches still open.

_Grenades hurt it, the LAWs hurt it._

He twisted in mid-jump, dodging two missiles.

_So I can hurt it!_

He felt his confidence, and the energy generated by it, singing in his ears, and brought his hands together in front of him.

_"Mouko Takabisha!"_

The blast caught the armour suit dead center, and it staggered backwards, falling onto its back. Ranma landed lightly on the plastron, standing over it, and smirked.

"Okay, guys, I think this thing is down for the count. Let's check it out."

It shifted. Ranma jumped backwards, landing beside it, and gaped as the plastron swung open.

"There's a pilot. Stand ready."

A hand appeared over the edge of the pilot's compartment. The hand was almost as large as Ranma. The pilot sat up, and Ranma took a step back.

She was quite obviously female, her flight suit revealing curves instantly recognizable, and appeared almost completely human. Almost; if she were upright, Ranma estimated that she'd stand ten meters tall. She slowly removed her helmet, and long purple hair spilled down around her shoulders. She looked towards Ranma, and he was struck by the beautiful lines of her face, and the hollow look of pain in her eyes. She struggled to rise, then collapsed backward into the machine.

Ranma jumped up, and looked down at her still-open but now lifeless eyes.

"I'm sorry." He glanced down at the horrible burn on her abdomen. "But you chose to start this fight."

Evans climbed up, and looked down at the pilot. "Damn. If it weren't for her height, I'd be trying to get her phone number."

Ranma nodded. "I feel like shit. Burnin' down a woman like that."

"Sir, she was trying to kill us."

"I know." He sighed. "It still feels bad, though. Too much time around my sexist Pop, I guess."

Evans glanced over at Ranma. "First time I've seen a chick with bigger tits than you, Sir."

* * *

"The machine that the female giant was piloting is of a notably different design." Ranma clicked the slide projector's button again. "Chief Engineer O'Toole is of the opinion that it is also of a different technology base. It lacks transformation capability, and appears to use a more primitive form of thrust vectoring and of pilot feedback control."

"What about culture?" The Captain leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee before continuing. "The female pilot attacked your party with the barest of provocation. Moreso, you demonstrated peaceful intentions before she opened up on you."

"Sir, this is the part that worries me." Ranma clicked to the next slide. "We found the galley, some crew quarters, and what appears to be a training area. We did not, at any time, find anything like a recreational facility."

"Any conclusions, Lieutenant?"

Ranma shrugged. "It's a warship, sure as hell. But even submarines have _some_ recreational facilities. I'd be tempted to believe that the original owners of the ship had little interest outside combat."

Hayase nodded. "That was what I was getting, too."

Ranma clicked to the next slide. "About forty percent of the ship's compartments appear to be scaled for people somewhat about our size, perhaps the height of an average Japanese citizen. The other sixty percent appears to be scaled for the giants, and the sizes of compartments we found suggest that a ten-meter individual, like the pilot who attacked us, must be on the small side."

"Makes sense, seeing as she's female."

Ranma glanced over at Lt. Ibuki. "Actually, Sir, the typical compartment size we found was scaled for someone closer to fifteen meters tall. Even if their females tend to be considerably smaller than their males, the compartments we found would be difficult for her to get around in. Relative to human average, she'd be effectively three foot eight."

He clicked the remote again. "We found six more robot hangars, and evidence of battle in several parts of them. The female's battlesuit seems to be standard issue for one side; the transforming jets are more numerous, and none of the female battlesuits were found hangared. Therefore, I believe that the ship was under attack by the battlesuits."

"Any other survivors?"

"None. The only body present was the female, that we had to kill."

"Where did they go?" Captain Hayase scowled. "Did you find any evidence of lifeboats being launched?"

"There does not appear to be any lifeboats present, but we found bays where they might have been stored. In both sizes. Plus, we found boat bays, that appear to have held larger craft. Also all empty." Ranma clicked the remote again. "Three of the hangars we found were completely empty of jets. The others appear to hold only damaged units. The other suits of giant-scale powered armour we found had been opened, probably to recover downed pilots."

"So the ship was derelict when it crashed."

"That seems likely, Sir." He clicked again. "Damage from firefights here and there. Forced entry through one liftlock. Odds are, both sides abandoned the ship, after one helluva fight."

Hayase nodded. "All right. Thank you, Mister Saotome. Good debrief."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Dismissed."

Ranma snapped to attention, then turned and left the compartment. He breathed a sigh of relief the instant the hatch closed behind him.

"Don't like public speaking, do you, Mister Saotome?"

Ranma turned, to see a somewhat familiar face. A gold star decorated each of the man's lapels, and Ranma snapped to attention, firing off a crisp salute.

The Brigadier returned the salute, then said, "Stand easy, Lieutenant."

"Field brevet, Sir. My permanent rank is Sergeant, First Class. Which reminds me." He reached up to remove the rank insignia.

"Hold on, Lieutenant." The General raised a hand. "How would you like to keep those butter bars?"

"I'd rather be tossed into a pit full of hungry cats while wrapped in fish sausages, Sir."

The Brigadier chuckled. "Vivid mental image, that. I've been keeping an eye on you since we recruited you--"

Ranma snapped his fingers. "Now I recognize you, Sir. You're the guy who recruited me into the Marines."

"Yes." Enomoto nodded. "Now I'm here to offer you a change in career."

Ranma frowned. "What do you have in mind?"

"Aviator," said the Brigadier. "You've tested high enough to go mustang, get your commission, and use your exceptional talents where they would definitely shine."

"Aviator. You mean a pilot?"

"Yes." The Brigadier leaned casually against the bulkhead. "The _Kenosha_ is being permanently transferred to the U.N. Marines, though the Navy will be operating it. Fighters flying off the ship would be Marine fighters, however, supporting Marine operations. Interested?"

Ranma considered this development slowly. "Sir, I don't wanna sound like I'm bein' suspicious or nothin', but I remember the part of the debrief where the Captain told us that if we even thought real hard about what happened on the island, we'd have a new career as fish food."

"That stands," admitted the Brigadier. "The event is still code-word classified, and likely to remain as such for a long time."

"Then it sounds to me like this might be a price for my silence."

"I can understand that." The Brigadier sighed. "Can you take my word for it that we've been considering this move for you since your recruitment?"

"Since it's your word, Sir, I can." Ranma nodded. "All right. When do I start?"

"Tomorrow." Brigadier Enomoto handed Ranma a folder. "Here's your orders and clearance. My helo lifts off tomorrow at oh-six-hundred. Be on it."

"Aye, Sir."

* * *

_Dear Misa,_

_I can't tell you what we found on the island. Security rules, you know how it goes. So I'll tell you some good news instead._

_There's this General, who's been kinda looking over my shoulder ever since I signed on with the Marines, and he's decided that I should go officer. I fly out tomorrow morning, for transfer to OCS. The Marines have a new aircraft carrier, and a new jet. Three more years of school. And here I was past that sorta crap._

_My flight school will be in California, but my OCS is in Annapolis. I'll get to see both coasts of the USA. If you're in either place, gimme a shout, and we'll get together or something._

_And by the way, your father's no dummy. He knows we're corresponding, and he's okay with it. So you don't need to hide these eMails or anything. And really, he wasn't trying to get me killed off or anything. He sent me and my team ashore on that last mission because we're the best, no other reason. I don't think he dislikes me, like you thought. He just feels that maybe a friend closer to your age would be more appropriate. But he's cool with us being friends. I guess maybe he realizes that you don't have many friends, and can use all you can get. Believe me, so could I._

_Sincerely, Saotome Ranma._

* * *


	7. Chapter Six: Forward To Yesterday

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Six: Forward to Yesterday**

**October 11th, 2005**

_Dear Ranma,_

_I'm so excited, I can barely write! I got my letter back from the UN Spacy Academy. I've been accepted! I have to report for orientation next week, but the next Basic doesn't start until January. I'm not really looking forward to that, crawling around in the ice and snow, but if you can do it, I can do it, right?_

_I was happy to hear about your promotion, too. Lieutenant First Class. Are they going to give you your own squadron? It seems odd that you made Sergeant in just a few years, but it took you almost five years to get 1st Lieutenant from 2nd. And it's nice to see that women can advance in the armed forces. But you're, what, twenty-six now? I don't know a lot about promotion schedules yet, but it seems to me that you should have a higher rank than that. You've been in the forces since you were sixteen. Ten years, and you've only made 1st Looie. Of course, you spent a lot of time as an enlisted woman as well._

_Anyway, I'll be commissioned in two years, and with luck, maybe we'll be on the same boat._

_Love, Hayase Misa._

* * *

The muted growl of the _Kenosha_'s motors rose slowly in volume, marking the beginning of the day's flight operations. Ranma glanced up from his knee-board and watched as two F/A-18E Hornet attack fighters were pushed back onto the cats by the deck tractor. He glanced back down, and added up, for the fourth time, the payload of his own jet.

He'd had plenty of illusions, four years ago, about what flying would be like. The UN Marine Flight Instruction Center, located at Miramar, had ground most of those out of him. Built around the old United States Navy Fighter Weapons School, Miramar FIC taught Marines to fly as they taught them to do everything else: With teamwork, by the book, in a precise, orderly, military manner. Eighty percent of flight operations was accounting. If not managing his own aircraft's weight loads and flight statistics, he was handling the team of technicians and support staff required to keep his jet in fighting trim.

He hadn't been surprised to learn that sixty people, not counting himself, were required to make the Hornet into a weapon. What _did_ surprise him was that twenty of them answered directly to him. There was a reason that officers flew aircraft, and it had nothing to do with wardroom mentality. He was the team's lead, and he was expected to _lead_ them.

But in keeping with the _other_ traditions of the Marines, the Corps had brought in six graduates of the Navy Fighter Weapons School, among the last to graduate before it was shut down and subsequently sold to the UN. And they had taught this latest crop of Marine aviators how, when presented with this weapon, to _use_ it as a weapon. Sixty people might be needed to ready and maintain the weapon, but in the final analysis, the performance of the weapon came down to one Marine, properly trained in its use.

The deck shook as first one, then the second, Hornet was blasted off the catapults. He glanced over at the elevator and watched as his own ride, Delta 403, was elevated to the flight deck. The wings unfolded, dropping from their stowage position to flight position - an act that always made his teeth sweat. If those things decided to fold in flight...He watched as the ordies, dressed in their garish orange jumpsuits, dragged the weapons towards the airplane.

"Just a short hop today, Sir."

He glanced up at his plane captain. The young woman - a chief sergeant despite her youth - stood slightly behind him, watching the ordnance crew lifting the first missile up to the plane.

Sergeant Wiersbowski looked down at her own clipboard. "Why did you order the extra fuel?"

Ranma shrugged. "I had fifteen hundred spare pounds, so I decided to gas up. Will there be a problem with the center tank?"

"Naw." The sergeant shook her head. "We're getting a bit low on them, but the Major hasn't said anything about it yet." Major Tom Robbins was the commander of UM-13, the Black Watch. Responsible for the thirty-six airplanes (plus four spares) and over three hundred men and women who worked with them, he had the right - indeed, the responsibility - to impose limits on stores consumption. External fuel tanks were jettisoned when emptied, or before combat, and were therefore consumable stores.

"Did you hear about the Rogers?"

"Nope." Ranma shook his head. "What happened?"

"They lost eight jets last week. Massive furball over Guam. The brass has officially struck their colours."

"Yeah?" Ranma sighed. "They're a proud old corp. This'll shake them up."

"Well, two of them will be coming here, next week, to fill some holes in our own lineup."

Ranma snorted. VF-84, the Americans' feared Jolly Roger Squadron, were Navy pukes. "How are they gonna fit in with us Jarheads?"

Wiersbowski grinned. "Probably not well, at first. But they'll learn."

Ranma nodded absently, then stood up. One hand instinctively slapped his kneeboard, making sure it was properly sealed. "Well. I'm due at the office in about three minutes, Sarge."

"Good hunting, Sir."

"Thanks." He jogged towards his airplane.

* * *

"Cat's Eye reports two bogies on an intercept course for Guam, Sir."

Captain Antonio Mancuso, UN Maritime Forces, turned at the tech's call. He glanced up at the glass partition. A rated tech was already scribbling details on it from the other side - all the techs who worked that side of the layout were well versed in writing backwards. He stared at the CIC board, then turned to Colonel Vinh.

"Chinese, maybe?"

"Could be." Vinh tugged absently at his small, neat mustache. "Speed?"

The radio operator toggled his system. "Cat's Eye, _Kenosha_. Say bogey's speed and altitude, over." He paused to listen, then glanced back at the Colonel. "Sir, Cat's Eyes reports speed relative to the ground at six hundred knots at two hundred feet."

"Mach one at two hundred feet? They're not civilians." Vinh glanced back up at the CIC board. "If they're that new variant of the Flanker, they'll eat my Hornets for lunch." He considered. "Vector Bravo Two flight to intercept. Warn them off, if possible."

* * *

Ranma settled in for his fourth run down the valley. He guessed that he'd caught his opponent napping the first time, and the second two times, he'd been pinged only briefly by search radar. His computer had confirmed that the radar was of the type normally found attached to an SA-2 launcher. Not normally something to instill confidence in a fighter jock, but it had pleased Ranma greatly. For he was flying that most dangerous of missions, Suppression of Enemy Air Defense. Or, as Navy and Marines called it, Iron Hand, a name that he by far and away preferred.

This time, the search radar lit him up, and his threat receiver went nuts as it switched to guidance mode. But this was exactly what he'd been waiting for. He clicked open his mike, gave the brevity call that informed any observer of his action: "Magnum, magnum, magnum!"

He thumbed his weapon release button, and his number three station kicked an AGM-84 HARM missile off of the rack. The missile streaked right down the beam of the guidance radar. The radar operator must have seen it coming, because the beam faded, but it was far too late for him; the HARM would simply follow its current course, which would likely carry it close enough to the radar vehicle to kill it.

His threat receiver howled again, and Ranma's eyes glanced up to the indicators. He was being painted again, but from a different source! He banked the plane over, diving towards a hill, but he could already see the massive surface-to-air missile lifting off from the ground. The SA-2, referred to by the UN as the Gainful, was quite obsolete, but it would still cheerfully kill a Hornet. Ranma toggled his jammers, and dived for the deck, btt the missile followed him in. He twisted in his seat, trying to spot the guiding radar; another HARM would get that missile off his ass in a hurry. The SA-2 was not self-guided, and relied on the ground radar installation to bring it into its target.

But he couldn't spot it. He spotted the launch site itself, with the missile crews struggling to get another SA-2 onto the launch rails, and angled his Hornet towards them. One hand absently flipped his battle computer to ground attack mode, and selected a different station. He watched his altitude with one eye, and the SAM with the other, and waited until it was almost on top of him. Then pulled up sharply, pumping out chaff as he did so.

As scary as having a SAM chasing you was, it was easy to forget that they couldn't turn worth a damn. The missile overshot him, chasing his chaff, then exploded well below him. He pushed the nose of the fighter back down, adjusted his course, and aimed for the launching vehicle. Another touch of the weapon release button, and a Rockeye went tumbling in and amongst the missile site. It disgorged a cloud of tiny bomblets as it fell, and their rippling explosion destroyed the launch crew, the launch vehicle, and several spare missiles nearby.

He tried not to think of it. More than ten years in uniform, and he still hated to kill. But _that_ SA-2 site would not be shooting at his fellow Marines when they came in to take this island.

"_Magnum!_"

He glanced over to starboard, and watched as his wingleader punched off a HARM. He clicked the mike button.

"Dee four oh two, Dee four oh three. Was that a K-type source?"

"_Yep. He went off the air...Damn._" Featherstone banked his fighter and got clear of his target. "_HARM missed. He's painting again._"

"He wasn't in the briefing." Ranma nosed his fighter towards the radar site. "Dee five oh three in hot with HARMs."

"_SAM!_" Featherstone banked again, harder this time. "_I've got a SAM on my ass._"

"Hold tight, four oh two." The Gainful was tracking the radar paint on Featherstone's bird, but that radar paint had to come from somewhere...

There! He was too far out of arc to pick up the SAM radar's beam, which made the HARM much less likely to hit, but his wingleader was being chased down by a SAM. He waited for the Lock indicator, and pickled off the HARM.

True to form, the radar operator killed his beam. Both the HARM and the Gainful lost lock and self-destructed, but Ranma had his target now. He pounced, dropping his second Rockeye canister right in their laps.

"_We haven't got site two yet._" Featherstone pulled up next to Ranma's fighter. "_I've only got one HARM left, but both my Rockeyes._"

"I'm out of both." Ranma checked his stores list. "Two Snakes, two Slammers, lots of cannon shells."

His divisional tac freak crackled. "_Delta flight, say your state, over._"

"_Delta four hundred, empty and seven hundred._"

"_Delta four oh one, one Rockeye, nine hundred._"

"_Delta four oh two, one HARM, two Rockeyes, seven hundred._"

He clicked his mike. "Delta four oh three, empty, sixteen hundred." He didn't bother mentioning the air-to-air ordnance; his entire Flight was doing Iron Hand, but the Hornet's four air-to-air missile stations were dedicated. Unlikely that any of them had expended any yet.

"_Four oh three and four hundred, we have unknown bandits closing on your position. Your vector for intercept is two eighty five for sixty. They've already killed Bravo. Gate._"

"Four oh three, roger." He pulled his airplane around to the intercept heading, and rammed the throttles forward to the top. His thumb found the afterburner button and punched it up to stage five, and the bird surged ahead at maximum acceleration. Sixty kilometers downrange was almost in range for his AIM-120 AMRAAM missiles - known to the pilots as Slammers. But he couldn't get visual confirmation from...he checked his radar; fifty three kilometers and closing.

"Cat's Eye, Dee four oh three. Confirm no friendlies in the area of those bandits." He checked his shoulder, saw Delta 400 forming on his wing.

"_Dee four oh three, confirmed. No friendly aircraft within twenty klicks of the bandits._"

"Dee four hundred. You want the lead?"

"_Naw. You're already there._" Delta 400's pilot, Hans Schreiber, was from Germany, but his accent when he spoke Basic seemed odd; perhaps he'd learned Basic from a Scot?

"Okay. Slammers. I got the one to the left."

"_Roger._"

Ranma waited as the AIM-120 got the scent of its prey, and then punched his weapon release stud. "Fox Two!"

"_Fox Two!_" Delta 400 released his weapon seconds after Ranma's, and both AMRAAMs roared downrange.

And Ranma's radar display went crazy.

"Jamming."

"_Lock lost; both weapons just self-destructed._"

"Intercept in sixty." Ranma flipped the weapon selector over to his first Sidewinder. "It's gonna be a knife-fight."

* * *

"Delta four oh three confirms both bandits splashed," stated the commo rating. "Four hundred was hit, punched out. We're dispatching SAR."

"Good." Captain Mancuso nodded, and turned to Colonel Vinh. "How are your attack birds doing?"

"We've hit every programmed target, but a few air-defense sites that we didn't know about have cost us. Our side of this operation is pretty much successful, though."

"Excellent." Mancuso turned back to the commo tech. "Signal _Shankland_ and _Young_ to begin landing operations."

* * *

Delta 403 made a clean trap, and Ranma started his shutdown procedures. A deck tractor rolled up, snagging his nose gear, and started towing the jet towards the elevators. He snapped his kneeboard shut, popped the canopy, and climbed down from the airplane.

Lt. Carver, his LSO, came jogging up, and Ranma waved as he approached.

"Good trap?"

"Caught a three wire." The LSO was jotting notes on his PDA. "Debrief for the trap might take thirty whole seconds."

"Good stuff." Ranma nodded. "Mission debrief's gonna take a little longer. Did they pick up Schreiber?"

"SAR helo was dispatched, but I haven't heard anything else. As soon as--"

The bitch box crackled to life. "Lieutenant Saotome, please report to flag bridge."

"Crap." Ranma sighed. "Just what I need, to show up in front of the Admiral still wearing my speed jeans."

"Better get there on the bounce."

* * *

"Lt. Saotome, reporting as ordered." Ranma didn't salute; his flight helmet was under his arm, and his head bare.

Admiral Grant nodded. "At ease, Lieutenant. Grab a chair."

"Yes, Sir." He stepped in, and stopped suddenly at the sight of a familiar face. "Brigadier." His eyes caught the two stars on each lapel. "I mean, General."

General Enomoto chuckled. "Hello again, Lieutenant. Keeping well?"

"Tolerably." Ranma sat down cautiously. "So where are ya sendin' me this time?"

"Somewhere familiar, for a switch." Enomoto glanced up at Admiral Grant. "The Lieutenant and I have a bit of a history, Admiral."

"Just kinda sorta," snorted Ranma. "Every time I see this guy, I get a new career. What this time? Tank driver?"

"Actually, that's surprisingly close. How's your security level, Saotome?"

"Three-A."

"This material is a bit higher than that. Codeword classification. Project PAINTED GLOVE."

Ranma rolled his eyes. By invoking the codeword itself, Enomoto had pretty much declared that Ranma was in. Or he was in deep trouble. "I'm bettin' I can't keep this file under my pillow, then, Sir?"

"Nor even in your quarters safe. For that matter, I can't even tell you about it right now - Admiral Grant isn't even cleared for PAINTED GLOVE." Enomoto set a thick file folder on Grant's desk. "This document contains all data on PAINTED GLOVE except for operational details. You'll get to read it once we leave tomorrow. I'd suggest finishing it before you arrive." Enomoto paused. "I do apologize for all the disruption I seem to cause in your career. But I think you'll enjoy this posting."

"Where exactly am I going, Sir?"

"Somewhere you've been before." General Enomoto grinned. "South Ataria Island."

* * *

**October 18th, 2005**

The C-2A Greyhound - so named, Ranma was convinced, because it flew like a dog - touched down on the runway and began its rollout. Ranma grabbed his duffel, and waited for the plane to finish taxiing, then jumped up and worked his way to the hatch. The wing-wipers didn't like it when he did things like jumping down from the plane's open door, so he waited until they had a staircase parked next to the door, and trotted down briskly. He was the only passenger this time around, so he paused at the bottom and glanced around.

There were few aircraft at this base, far fewer than the base appeared designed to support. And most interestingly, he didn't recognize any of them except a second Greyhound parked on the tarmac. One looked like an F-15, but many of the details were wrong - number one amongst which were its size, less than half the size of the fighter affectionately referred to by its pilots as the Starship. Another resembled the F-14, but the rake of its tailfins was much greater than that of the Tomcat, and the wing-gloves looked...wrong. A third looked like no plane he'd ever seen in the air, though its general airworthiness looked likely.

Given the contents of the PAINTED GLOVE file, though, he had a good idea what those jets were.

Ranma dug out his orders, then turned and dog-trotted towards Officer's Country. He could rubberneck later on. Right now, he still had a job to do.

* * *

"I'm not interested, Focker."

Ranma paused. The liquid accent; he'd heard it once before, the sounds and word flow that made Japanese sound so musical. This voice was speaking English, but it was just as musical. He turned, and spotted a woman in the green UN Ground Forces uniform. Her skin was the colour of chocolate, and her face quite pretty, at least when not scowling.

The man standing in front of her was the next best thing to two meters in height, long and lanky, with blond hair somewhat longer than regulation. Ranma spotted wings and silver bars, two each per lapel. Overall, the scene reminded him of one from long ago, just after graduation...

"C'mon, Claudia. They didn't mean anything. Just some people to party with, okay?"

"Fighter jocks party with other fighter jocks, not with strippers."

"Were they gettin' undressed? What makes you think they were strippers?"

"Because they were with you." Her tone took a bitter note. "Wish I'd avoided you when we first met." She added something else, but it was in a language he didn't understand, some dialect of French.

"Claudia--"

Ranma cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Sir."

The blond man turned to face him. Unlike the giant from that night so long ago, though, he grinned. "Hey, Lieutenant. Just transferred in?"

"Yes." Ranma nodded. "But I needed to speak with the young lady. Alone."

Focker shrugged. "Sure, no problem." He glanced back at Claudia. "I'll call you tonight."

"I'll hang up the phone." She turned to Ranma. "Lieutenant?"

Ranma nodded, and led her away from the hangar. As soon as they were out of earshot, he said, "I apologize, Lieutenant. Figured you needed an out."

"Thanks." She offered a hand. "Claudia LaSalle."

Ranma grinned widely, and grasped her hand. "Saotome Ranma."

She laughed, a warm and furry sound. "I thought so. Rescuing LaSalles seems to be a hobby for you, Saotome."

"If Lieutenant Commander Focker is being too...forward, I can straighten him out for you." Ranma shrugged. "Just didn't want to start pummeling people in my first half hour on base."

"Half hour? Have you reported in?"

Ranma shook his head. "Not yet. My orders are to report to the Base Commander, but these damn buildings aren't labelled."

"Well, Colonel Ross ain't the biggest stickler for protocol. We've got time for a cup of tea. Join me?"

"Sure. Why not?"

* * *

Apparently, the base had, despite its small size and secret nature, already gathered a civilian population. Given the massive construction going on in the immediate neighbourhood, it made sense; not everyone working on the giant alien ship could be military. One of the civilians was running a small Chinese restaurant. The food smelled good, the tea was excellent, and the proprietor, one Ling Saochin, was a cheerful fellow, greeting the two of them at the door.

"Roy Focker and I have a bit of a history," said Claudia. "He's actually a pretty good guy, once you get past the fighter jock bullshit, but he can occasionally be very...I guess the best word is inconsiderate. He doesn't stop to think things through, about how his actions might upset a person."

"I can understand that," chuckled Ranma. "I've got much the same problem, myself."

"Actually, you two, from my admittedly limited interaction with you, seem to be cut from the same mold. Confident, almost to arrogance, but with the ability to back up that confidence. Willing to help others out. Friendly and open."

"And with an ability to jam both our feet into our mouths, and have room left over for the leg?"

"Probably." Claudia chuckled. "Anyway, Roy spotted me originally in a formation, just before graduation at Annapolis. Roy was at Pax River, and was visiting the Academy. This was back in ninety-five, I think."

"I thought you were in Nerima in ninety-six?"

"Early ninety-six, if I recall. That was some years ago. Posted there right out of the Academy." Claudia paused for a cup of tea. "He tried to chat me up while I, and the rest of my class, were being herded around by our company commander." She chuckled. "Didn't get very far. I just kept my eyes front and ignored him. A year or so later, he showed up at Northern Army's HQ. I was there as a liason officer. I don't know why he was there."

She leaned back, a fond smile on her face. "He was so damn persistent. Kept giving me presents, always small, nicely wrapped. I think it was five years before I actually opened them; just kept tossing them in my desk unopened. It took some time before I saw past the fighter pilot bravado to what was underneath, and realized just what a great guy he really is."

Ranma frowned. "You didn't seem so friendly with him earlier."

"Well, you must realize that Roy has come a long way, but he can still be a right bastard at times. He loves female company. Part of the problem that I had with him was that he always had hangers-on. The first time I agreed to go out with him, he showed up with two other girls."

Ranma laughed. "That must have thrilled you to no end."

"Oh, I was not pleased, let me tell you!" She joined in his laughter. "So we've had this weird sort of on-again, off-again romance for the last ten years. I think we're starting to get past most of the crap, he's starting to clean up his act, and we might actually have a future." She sighed. "But then he goes and pulls a stunt like he did yesterday."

"What did he do?"

"I dropped down to the hangars to visit, and he had five girls all around him, laughing and feeding him drinks. Acting quite the clown for them." She sighed. "I can be fairly certain he wasn't trying to get into their pants; I think he knows that something like that would wreck our relationship completely. But he just..." She threw up her hands. "I can't believe he'd--" She gave an exasperated sigh, and leaned back. "He just doesn't think these things through. Didn't even stop to consider what I'd think of it."

Ranma hesitated, then quietly said, "Can I ask a personal question, Claudia?"

She chuckled. "This entire conversation has been rather personal."

"Do you love him?"

She paused. "I...think so. Like I said, underneath it all, he's really a great guy, and...well, there's nights I lie awake, thinking about him, wishing he could dump more of the act."

"Claudia, I wasted two years dancing around this sort of issue with my wife. When I finally admitted to her - and myself - how I felt about her...Well, three weeks after we were married, she died."

Claudia gasped. "Oh, my God."

"Terrorist bombing. Just so...random." He looked up from his tea. "One of my biggest regrets is those two years I wasted, because I couldn't tell her how I felt. You and Roy have wasted ten years now. Roy's a soldier. Worse, he's a fighter pilot; he faces more danger every day than Akane ever did." He leaned forward. "He could die tomorrow. If you love him, _don't waste any more time._"

* * *

"Colonel Ross will see you now, Mister Saotome."

"Thank you, Corporal." Ranma stood, pulled his cap onto his head - full dress uniform was called for meeting the base CO - and stepped into the BC's office. He saluted sharply. "Lieutenant Ranma Saotome, reporting as ordered, Sir."

"At ease, Lieutenant." Ross was a small man, wiry, with graying hair and a pencil-thin moustache. His voice was a bit nasal, and overall, he didn't project the image of a dangerous warrior. But his uniform was spotless, the creases all sharp enough to shave with, and the ribbons on his chest weren't for perfect attendance. "Just in from the _Kenosha_, I see."

"Yes, Sir."

"Major Rollins had some nice parting comments for you, Lieutenant. Natural feel for aviation, skilled pilot, perfect trap every time. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but you're already on the short list for our next slot for Captain."

"Really, Sir?"

"Yep. Of course, until we get two full squadrons, you won't be facing that board any time soon." Ross closed the file, and looked up. "Have you been briefed in on PAINTED GLOVE?"

"I've read the file, Sir. 'Combat aircraft designed for multiple environments, based on technology recovered from ASS-1.'" He hesitated. "It's worth pointing out, Sir, that I was one of the soldiers that led the initial expedition into the Visitor."

"Brevetted to Lieutenant for the operation. I know, Saotome. It's in your dossier. Siddown."

"Yes, Sir."

"Tea?"

"Thanks."

Ross rolled his chair over to the credenza behind his desk, and started building two cups. "This base is hosting the PAINTED GLOVE project. We're serving two roles. First, we'll be evaluating the experimental aircraft. Of the four designs being contemplated, we're to pick the one that best serves the roles we have in mind. In addition, in a year or two, we're supposed to be getting two more prototypes, for a slightly different role. You familiar with the American F-15 and F-16 aircraft?"

"Somewhat, Sir."

"Like the Eagle and Falcon, we intend two platforms, one larger one for heavy combat, and one smaller one to support the larger one in its role. The larger platform, which is currently code-named FIREBIRD, will serve as an interceptor and primary combatant. Milk?"

"No thanks, Sir."

"The smaller combatant, code-named THUNDERBIRD, will provide close-air support, Wild Weasel--" This was Air Force short-hand for the Iron Hand mission, Ranma's own specialty. "--and air superiority support for FIREBIRD in the interceptor role."

"Sounds like a good mix."

"I think so. Sugar?"

"No, thanks."

Ross rolled back over with two cups of tea. "Earl Grey. Hope that's okay, it's the only blend I like."

"Never had it, actually."

"We've considered you for the THUNDERBIRD platform, but we don't have any prototypes for it yet." Ross sipped his tea. "Your performance in both Wild Weasel and air superiority make it a good match for you. But for now, you'll be joining the FIREBIRD team as a test pilot."

"How many prototypes do we have, Sir?"

"Of the four designs we're evaluating, we have four birds each. Sixteen total." Ross clicked a key on his terminal, and the large screen on the back wall lit up. "This one, code-named Spectre, is by MacDonnel-Douglas, and shows obvious influence from their F-4 Phantom design." He clicked again. "This one comes from Northrop-Grumman, and is based on a Northrop prototype that didn't quite make it into service, the F-17 Cobra. The codename for this one is Rattlesnake."

"Looks like a Bug, Sir."

"Yes. MacDonnell-Douglas purchased the Cobra design and rebuilt it into the F-18 Hornet." He clicked again. "This one was designed by Stonewell-Bellcom, based on Grumman's F-14 design. Code-name is Valkyrie. We don't have a lot of hope for it; the variable-geometry wing design is more prone to damage and maintenance issues." He clicked again. "And this one was designed by Shinnakasu Industries of Japan, and is based off the old MacDonnell-Douglas F-15 design. Codename Phoenix."

"May I ask which one you favour, Sir?"

"Well, the decision is not my own. Of the four, I personally think the Northrop-Grumman design is our best bet. But the actual decision will be made by the general staff, based on the results of our test flight analysis."

"Which one will I be assigned to?"

Ross leaned back. "At the moment, we're down one pilot. Stupid bastard smashed up his car while drag-racing. He'll live, but we might just decide that he'll live as a civilian." Ross sighed. "As it happens, the vacancy is in the Stonewell-Bellcom team. Got any other questions?"

Ranma thought back to the blond Lieutenant Commander. "I noticed that some people here have non-regulation haircuts..."

"As long as you keep it neat, I don't care about hair."

"Oh. Good."

The Colonel's intercom buzzed, and he smiled. "Right on time." He clicked the intercom, and said, "Send him right in, Nancy." he released the button. "Team leader for the Stonewell-Bellcom team. You'll be reporting to him."

The door opened, and Ranma's eyes widened as the blond Lieutenant Commander entered. Ranma stood, snapped to attention. "Sir."

"Lieutenant." The Lieutenant Commander grinned. "I've heard a lot about you. You're supposed to be one of the best."

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, you're not _the_ best. I am." He extended a hand. "Lieutenant Commander Roy Focker. Pleased to meet you."

* * *

_Dear Lisa,_

_Hope you enjoy Basic. Seriously, don't let them run you out. That's what they're after, to try and make sure only the best get in. If you survive it, you've got little left to prove._

_I've been given a new posting, and I can't tell you where it is. Security rules. In addition, they're gonna be reading my mail, because it is a very sensitive post. I think I can get away with telling you that I'm now working as [Censored for security reasons]. My new team lead, [Censored], is a great guy, even if we did get off on the wrong foot._

_I've also met a new friend, name of [Censored for security reasons]. She's the sister of someone I met just after I finished Basic, and really sweet. You'd like her a lot. She told me that her brother [Censored] will be working with my team, when he's not posted seaward. It'll be good to see him again._

_[Paragraph censored for security reasons]_

_Anyway, I can't say much, and they're likely gonna chop half of what I've already said out of the eMail. Drop me a line at my usual address, and they'll make sure it gets to me. Hopefully, they won't censor my incoming mail._

_Warmest regards,_

_Saotome Ranma_

* * *


	8. Chapter Seven: Facets of Friendship

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Seven: Facets of Friendship**

**April 4th, 2007**

_Dear Ranma,_

_Good news! With my graduation complete, and my father able to pull a few strings - it's good being the daughter of an Admiral - I was able to get the posting I want. Sure, I'm a bit junior for the posting - whoever heard of an Ensign getting assigned to a black project - but I'm coming to South Ataria Island!_

_Daddy told me I was going to get the shock of my life there. Probably because of the alien space ship they're rebuilding there. Doesn't take much brain power to figure that one out._

_Anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing you again. It's been almost ten years - well, eight and a bit - since we first and last met. I doubt you've changed too much, but I've grown up since that awkward little girl you met on the beach. I hope we're not too different now._

_Love,_

_Hayase Misa._

* * *

"Aw, fuck." Ranma jumped up and started pacing his quarters. "Misa's posted here! Just my friggin' luck!"

With a superior officer - first a naval Captain, then a Commodore, and now a Rear Admiral - breathing down his neck, he'd never so much as hinted at the curse to Misa. But if she was posted here...

The one good thing was that she was junior to him. But she'd been through a proper Naval Academy, whereas he'd had the "quickie officer" course offered to Mustangs. Which meant that the odds of him rising past O-3 - Captain - were slim to none. Misa was an Admiral's daughter, and had posted top in her form - as her last letter had stated - so it seemed likely that she wasn't going to be an Ensign for long.

In fact, in less than three years, she'd be his equal in rank. An O-3 in the Navy was a Lieutenant Commander, which sounds less impressive than Captain, but only because a Captain of the Navy was O-5.

Well, no time to worry about it now. For the moment, he had bigger problems. Specifically, the first three fully-functional prototypes of the Stonewell-Bellcom Valkyrie had arrived.

_And about goddamn time!_

The Phoenix crews had gotten disgustingly swelled-headed. Shinnakasu had rushed twenty-four prototypes - an entire damn squadrons' fighters! - to the island. Six were still obviously prototypes, bearing significant differences from the mass-produced variant, but Shinnakasu was banking on their design being selected. At the moment, eighteen of them were TDY to the _Asuka II_. They'd even seen some limited combat, though their full capabilities were still classified, and generally unused against the Anti-Unification Su-27 fighters they were engaging.

But Lt. Commander Khamil, the Phoenix's test-flight leader, was already celebrating his team's victory. Only four Stonewell-Bellcom fighters had been delivered to date, and they'd all been limited-capability test models.

Ranma zipped up his speed jeans, double-checked his helmet, and stepped out the door of the quarters. He stretched, tilted his head to the side to work out a crick, and grinned.

_Today will prove that the Valkyrie is the best of the bunch!_

* * *

"Three. Why the hell would they send us three?" Roy was more than a little annoyed.

"Vee Tee Zero Zero Two failed its electrical safety." Steve Jackson scowled down at the documents. "They didn't want to commit to a trans-Pacific flight if there was a chance that the fly-by-light system would conk out."

"Fighters operate in pairs. They have since the second World War."

Mark Kramer shrugged. "Why not operate them two at a time, then?"

"And leave one on the ground. Sure." Roy nodded. "I could do that. But who are we gonna use for aggressors?"

"Use the Phoenix team." Steve smirked. "All their birds work."

"Or the Spectres," offered Mark. "They've still got two operational birds."

"Both theirs are the demonstrators, not full-up birds." Roy sat down heavily. "And the Phoenix team's best pilots are off on the _Asuka_."

"Hey, Roy." Ranma leaned forward in his seat. "Why not operate the birds in groups of three?"

"Because it's not done!" Roy shook his head. "Teams of two were proven to be the most effective. One covers the other while the other does the actual work. It's safer, it's easier--"

"Doesn't make it perfect."

Roy considered the smaller pilot. "Okay, Jarhead. What do you have in mind?"

"In the Marines, we use teams of five. One provides fire support for the other four." Ranma raised his hand. "That was my job. Given the mission profile we're looking at, and the capabilities of this fighter, one bird could cover two others during ground-attack operations as safely as one could guard one. And then you have two-thirds of your jets hitting the targets while one-third watch their backs."

"You might have something there." Roy leaned back again. "Okay, but what about air-to-air missions?"

"Well, the FIREBIRD air-to-air mission is intercept. Which is the same mission, really, as ground-attack, except your targets are in the air. Two jets engage with long-range missiles; the third is equipped for the knife fight. Valkyries got the dogfighting lasers, the gun pod, even the laser turrets, for close-in work, so even after they pickle off all the AMRAAMs, they're not exactly defenseless."

Roy nodded. "You got a point. But they're talkin' now about scrapping the entire THUNDERBIRD project, which would leave us doin' the Wild Weasel and close-air support missions."

"Both of which are still strike missions, and the three-bird team would still work. And for the air-superiority role..." Ranma raised two hands, thumbs and pinkies out, in the age-old tradition of fighter pilots. "One-on-one is the rule, normally. Your wingman is there to try and get that one off your ass. But if the bad guy's wingman is latched himself, and you've still got a spare..." He didn't have a third hand to demonstrate, but shifted the front hand above and behind the rear. "They've got a problem." He dropped his hands. "It won't always work, but since _everyone_ uses two-plane elements, we'll have an initial advantage with _three_-plane elements."

"The Phoenix team can still provide the aggressors." Steve chimed in on this. "They're using two-man elements, still. Just tell 'em to send two wings. Four on three, and I bet we kick their asses."

Ranma smirked. "No. I got a better idea. Tell 'em to send all six operational birds."

The other three pilots gaped at him. Roy cleared his throat.

"So you want us outnumbered two to one for the exercise. You better have a shit-hot idea for dealin' with that, Jarhead."

Ranma cracked his knuckles. "Absolutely."

* * *

"_Coming up on target now._" Focker's voice crackled in Saotome's ear. "_Since this was Saotome's theory, he gets to play wingman, while me and Kramer do the dirty work._"

"That's 'Kramer and I', boss."

"_Shut up, Saotome._" The two lead Valkyries dropped altitude, while Saotome stayed at ten thousand feet. He checked his stores. Twelve of the new GA-23 "Diamondback" missiles - exercise shots, not live - and a clip of paintballs in the cannon. He depressed the Master Arm ring, rotated it one hundred eighty degrees, and released it. His battle computer registered Master Arm, and he flipped the stores selector to pylon one.

"_Got four contacts._" Kramer's voice was calm, despite their being outnumbered. "Two of the Phoenixes are staying covert."

"Got 'em." Saotome painted the two approaching from ahead. He rotated the throttle up forty-five degrees.

And the Valkyrie reconfigured around him.

The engine nacelles swung forward, vectored-thrust paddles splitting apart, forming two legs. The tailfins folded over on each other, and swung up to come to rest on the fuselage, just behind the cockpit. From the fuselage, two smaller booms swung outward, massive hands extending from inside. His gun pod broke free from its station; with the center stick, he manipulated the arm, using the buttons to work the fingers.

The hand closed around the reconfigured gun pod, one finger resting lightly on its huge trigger.

He stomped left rudder, and the left leg shifted backwards. The change in thrust balance rotated the fighter square into the teeth of the oncoming Phoenix fighters. He pickled off two missiles, watched them fly downrange towards the Phoenixes just long enough to ensure that they were tracking, then pulled up on the left rudder paddle. The reconfigured fighter spun on the spot. He lined up on the two Phoenixes approaching from the rear, then pulled up on the right rudder as well. Both legs now projected forward, allowing the fighter to fly _backwards_, and he fired off two more missiles.

This configuration, called GERWALK by the designers, was considered no more than a means of attaining vertical takeoff and landing. But Saotome had seen the possibilities it offered almost immediately...such as the ability to turn on a dime with zero forward movement.

The two Phoenixes closing from the rear never even saw the missiles coming. They turned and banked off, the computers on their birds registering the "kills" from the exercise shots. Ranma spun again, watched the two forward birds. One had been killed by a missile, but the other had spoofed its attacker. He haloed it, and brought the gun pod up.

No need to select the station for the gun pod; he merely depressed the first button on the back of the center stick. The finger of the Valkyrie pressed the trigger, and the gun-pod, set for twenty-round bursts, coughed and disgorged a stream of paintballs. At least half of them splashed across the Phoenix, and its pilot broke off in disgust.

"_Fuck me, it works._" Focker chuckled, and reconfigured his own aircraft. With a lower stall speed, the bombing run should be a piece of cake...

Two more Phoenixes rose from the bush, reconfigured, as the Valkyries were, to GERWALK mode. Ranma pulled his throttle fully vertical, and the Valkyrie transformed again. The wings swung all the way back, the fuselage broke in half, and the leg-booms swung forward. A shield descended over the canopy. blocking Ranma's view of the outside, and the laser turret/sensor boom rose up, forming a head-like structure.

The Valkyrie dropped down, now fully humanoid, and landed _on top_ of one of the Phoenixes. One titanic fist tapped the Phoenix gently, directly behind the cockpit; in a real battle, Ranma could have drove that fist right through the canopy, and the pilot. He leaped away from the "dead" Phoenix towards the other one, firing while airborne and inverted, and splashed fifteen rounds across its canopy. He worked the Valkyrie through a flip, and came to rest on the ground. He tossed the gun-pod to the left hand, then pulled back on the center stick, all buttons released.

The Valkyrie raised its right hand in a credible imitation of the UN Armed Forces salute.

"All six targets accounted for. Total combat time of ninety-five seconds."

"_Nice work, Jarhead!_" Focker chuckled. "_Guess we owe you a beer._"

* * *

It was about as drunk as he'd ever been, but that wasn't really saying much. Four beer - one each from Roy and Mark, and the matching two from the Phoenix team - had left him mildly buzzed, and he was again concerned about Misa's pending arrival.

He checked his watch - a heavy gold Rolex, a birthday present from Misa two years back - and shrugged. "Eight o'clock ain't that late." He knocked on the door.

"Just a second."

The door opened, and Claudia smiled down at him. "Ranma! How can I help you this evening?"

"Actually, 'help' is a good choice of words. I gotta problem, and I need some advice."

"Glad to help. Come on in."

He followed her into her quarters. As an officer, of similar rank to his own, Claudia rated a small one-bedroom flat. The BOQs at Macross Base shared a bathroom between two flats, but each had their own kitchen, living room and bedroom. They were built on a North American design, but they were comfortable, and he'd gotten used to his own quickly.

_Beats the hell out of barracks._

"I'd just put a kettle on for some tea. Would you like some?"

"Yeah, thanks. And a cup of cold water, please."

"Sure thing. Coming up, hon."

Ranma sat down on the couch, and waited in silence until Claudia set the tea and water in front of him. She settled down in an armchair opposite him. "What's on your mind, hon?"

"Well..." He scratched his head nervously. "I've got a friend that I've been chattin' with by eMail. And she's just been posted to Macross Base. She'll probably be comin' in tomorrow."

"That's good news, isn't it?"

"Problem is, she thinks I'm a girl."

"Oh." Claudia grinned. "One of those internet role-playing things. And you're worried that she'll be unhappy when she finds out you're not a girl, the first time she meets you?"

"It's not the first time."

"No?" Claudia looked at him oddly. "How the heck did you hide that physique?"

Ranma picked up the cold water and dumped it over his head.

Claudia's jaw dropped. "How--" She shook her head. "You...You're a girl!"

"Yeah." Ranma nodded. "It's a curse that I picked up in China. Doesn't matter where; the place is gone now. As far as I know, there's a total of fifteen cursed people out there, and I'm only one of two with this particular curse. The rest turn into animals of various sorts." She picked up the teacup and poured some tea over her head. "Hot water - or tea, or anything else that's mostly water - changes me back, but there's no known cure. Cold water will change me to a girl again."

"Why haven't you told anyone--No, scratch that. Stupid question. _I_ sure as hell wouldn't tell anyone." Claudia picked up her own tea and drank back the whole cup. "Needed that. Or something stronger. _How is this possible?_"

"Magic."

"There's no such thing as--"

"Don't say that." Ranma raised a hand. "I've seen far too much magic not to believe in it. And as of right now, so have you."

"I guess." Claudia frowned. "I see the problem now. She's expecting this tiny little girl, and instead, you're a not-so-tiny guy." She snickered. "She might be just as pleased, though; you're more than a bit attractive in male form."

Ranma rolled his eyes. "Right. Had far too much female attention already, let me tell ya."

"So why did you let her go on thinking you're female?"

"Her dad." Ranma paused to sip some of his remaining tea. "He was a naval Captain when Misa and I met. And I was just a Sergeant. He told me that he was less than happy with me spendin' time with his then-underage daughter. I told him I had spent the whole day with her as a girl - sudden rainshowers do that to ya - and he said he'd ignore it as long as she kept thinkin' I was a girl. Now he's an Admiral, and she's graduated the Academy and is comin' here."

"Hayase Misa. So her father is Admiral Hayase Takeshi." Claudia shook her head. "He's managed to screw you over on this one, hasn't he?"

"How did--"

"I'm Communications Officer, hon. I knew all the incoming arrivals for tomorrow, and there was only one Admiral's daughter named Misa coming in."

"Misa and I have gotten pretty close, but I doubt we would have if she'd known I was a guy."

"And you don't want her to think you've betrayed her." Claudia nodded. "Okay. I think I can help you out with this. Let's discuss it over dinner, shall we?"

"Umm..." Ranma hesitated. "Look, Claudia, I know you're sorta seein' Lieutenant Commander Focker--"

Claudia chuckled. "Don't worry. This is just a working dinner." She paused. "Roy's been taking me for granted, though, the last week or two. A bout of jealousy won't do him any harm."

* * *

"Spoilsport."

Ranma chuckled. "I just don't wanna cause any grief between me an' Roy. I gotta work with him day in an' day out." She poked her chest. "I don't think he's ever seen my girl side before, but even if he recognizes me, he won't think too badly about me bein' out with you if I'm girl."

"Okay, I can understand that." Claudia nodded. She opened the restaurant door. "Come on. Saochin's neice arrived yesterday, and he's been showing her off." She chuckled. "Girl's only thirteen, and she's already a good waitress."

"Ain't there a law about how young a person can be an' still work in a restaurant?"

"Not quite." Claudia shook her head. "Most countries, it's anywhere from sixteen to eighteen. The UN pegged it at twelve, in deference to some underdeveloped countries where kids _have_ to work, and since South Ataria Island is UN territory..."

"Got it."

"And here she comes," noted Claudia.

The girl was dressed in a cheongsam, her long black hair - dark enough to almost look blue, which stirred a pang in Ranma's heart. She smiled up at them. "Welcome to the White Dragon. Table for two?"

"Better make it three." Ranma grinned. "Just in case Roy happens by."

The girl's eyes wandered over Ranma's decorations, came to rest on her wings. "I didn't realize they let girls be fighter pilots."

"They do if you're as good as me," chuckled Ranma.

"And you've got the Rifle Marksmanship badge, and...Oh! The Titanium Medal of Valour!"

"You know your decorations, young lady."

"My dad's restaurant is near a base, we get a lot of soldiers. And the White Dragon, well..." She smiled. "It's good to know these things. But you've got the third highest decoration in the UN forces! And you're a girl."

"I'm a girl too, you know," pointed out Claudia.

"But she's not much older than me."

"I look young," admitted Ranma. "But I'm actually almost six years older than Claudia."

"Oh, I'm sorry." The girl looked a bit abashed. "There's a free table over by the window."

"Perfect," grinned Claudia.

The girl led them over to the table, but apparently wasn't done with Ranma just yet. "What did you do to get the Medal of Valour?"

"Can't tell you all the details, they're still classified." Ranma hesitated, then admitted, "Basically, I saved the city of Tokyo."

The girl's eyes widened.

* * *

**April 11th, 2007**

The VC-33 had dropped off sixteen new personnel for the growing Macross Base, mostly Naval ratings. Claudia watched them wandering about the terminal, keeping an eye out for one in particular.

When she spotted her, she was surprised. The girl was tall. Despite her obvious Japanese origins, she stood five foot eight - taller than Ranma in his male form - and her hair was a mousy brown - not precisely a flattering shade, but a lot lighter than she'd expected. She zeroed in on the girl, and offered a hand.

"Hayase Misa? I'm Claudia LaSalle."

"Pleased to meet you." She took the older woman's hand. "I was expecting to be met by someone else - I told her I was coming--"

"Ranma asked me to meet you. I've got something important to tell you before you two meet."

"No problem." Misa picked up her bag. "LaSalle...any relation to Edgar LaSalle?"

"My older brother." Claudia chuckled. "Ranma's probably told you a lot about him; they've been friends longer than you two have."

"So where are we meeting Ranma?"

"Tea shop, nearby. We can get a cup of tea before Ranma gets there."

* * *

"You're joking!"

Claudia shook her head. "Hon, I wish I were. Trust me, it came as a blow to me too. Magic--"

"Magic I can cope with." Misa stared down at her tea. "But Ranma...she's the closest thing I've had to a friend since forever. I've told her _everything_. And now you tell me she's really a _man_?"

"And quite a man at that. I can easily see why your father was worried." Claudia chuckled, and added, "His girl form's pretty attractive too. I can see why he--"

"_He!_" Misa buried her face in her hands. "My God! How could she keep lying to me that way?"

"He didn't want to, hon."

"No? She could have told me!" Misa looked up, her eyes flashing angrily. "But she's lied to me for eight years!"

"_He_ feels terribly about that." Claudia reached forward, grasped one of Misa's hands in her own. "Misa, it's been tearing him up for a long time. But your father, who just _happens_ to be an Admiral, made it plain to him that he couldn't talk to you unless you remained convinced that he was a girl. He's told you a lot about himself. How does he feel about his honour?"

"Most important thing in the world to her," mumbled Misa.

"And where would lying to a friend fall in that?"

Misa nodded.

"He knew that eventually, you'd have to find out. And he valued you enough as a friend to tarnish his honour this way. To keep you as a friend. How many people could he put above his honour?"

"She...he...he said once that he'd put Akane above honour." Her voice was broken. "That was the only time she--_he_--mentioned it."

"Akane was his _wife_. So he rates you up there with her."

"His _wife_ - who I thought was _her husband_ - used to beat him regularly." Misa smiled, but it wasn't a happy expression. "I don't rate that very high at all."

"But he did. And he thinks that highly of you as well. You might be the closest friend he has. Even I don't come close, and we've been good friends for a few years now." Claudia leaned forward. "Are you going to throw that away because he was _ordered_ to lie to you?"

"Some of what she--_he_--said makes more sense now." Her voice was a bit lost. "Put a male face on the words, and some of it makes a lot more sense."

Claudia chuckled. "Wait until you see that face. Shall I call him in?"

"I don't know if I can...can look at _him_."

"Don't you owe it to your closest friend? He wants to drop the lie. He still wants to be your friend. Will you let him?"

"Okay." Her voice was a whisper. "She's still my friend, after all. I suppose there's no reason why _he_ can't still be."

"I'll go get him."

* * *

"She wants to see you."

Ranma let out a breath. "How'd she take it?"

"Why are you asking me?" She grabbed his arm with a chuckle. "Come on!"

"Do I look okay?"

Claudia chuckled again. "You're in full dress, Ranma. _Anyone_ looks good in full dress."

"Is _she_ okay?"

"Good Lord, boy. You sound like a girl on her first date."

Ranma bristled, and Claudia smiled.

"Come on. Never keep a lady waiting."

* * *

Misa looked up at the man Claudia had all but dragged in.

He wasn't very tall, though rather more so than the girl she'd met, so many years ago. And his face, though stronger and more chiseled, was almost the same. The hair, and the eyes, were just as she remembered.

"It...it really _is_ you."

"Yep. Sorry 'bout this."

She stood up shakily, looked him up and down. Then picked up a glass of water from the table.

"I'm sorry, but...I need..."

"Need to see _her?_"

"No." She shook her head. "I need to be sure I'm seeing _you_." She dumped the glass over his head.

He shrunk. The lines of his face softened, and his build shifted, chest jutting out. She had to step back to see her properly; Misa was no giant, but Ranma's female form was so _tiny_.

The girl's face fell slightly as Misa stepped back, and the younger woman's heart almost broke. She quickly picked up the teapot.

"Here."

She stepped forward, and poured the tea over Ranma. The change reversed itself, leaving the male Ranma behind. He cursed quietly, and adjusted the uniform.

"Sorry." He grinned lopsidedly. "This uniform wasn't made with the change in mind. Just gettin' one that fits properly in both forms was--"

He broke off as Misa wrapped herself around him.

"God, it's good to see you again!"

"You...you're okay with this?"

"Well..." She stepped back and grinned. "I won't lie. I was pretty freaked out when I heard about it. But Claudia pointed out that appearances don't mean anything. You were always truthful with me, even when you were ordered to lie. You just..." She shrugged. "Avoided mentioning this one small detail."

"I hated not tellin' ya, but I couldn't." He looked down. "I don't like lyin'."

"I just said--"

"It felt like lyin'." He sat down heavily. "I'm kinda glad that we got it out in the open now."

"Me too." Misa sat down opposite him. "And once I realized that, man or woman, you're still my best friend..." She paused. "Wait a minute. Your female form still looks only seventeen or eighteen."

"Benefits of martial arts," chuckled Ranma. "I don't seem to be agin' as quick as I should." He stretched. "Still feel as limber as I did at sixteen."

"But you're, how old now?"

"Twenty-eight. But I still get carded if I'm in civvies. Especially in my girl form." He scowled. "Not that I go out drinkin' in my female form. I get drunk too easily for my own comfort, and the guys that hang out in bars can be real perverts."

Misa chuckled. "Well, I'm really glad that you talked to Claudia about this. I do have to admit that if this had come at me cold...well, I'm not sure how I would have reacted."

"Yeah, I gotta say--" He broke off. "Hey, where is she?"

Misa looked around, but the taller woman was nowhere to be seen. "I don't know. Why did she leave?"

* * *

Claudia chuckled to herself. "Okay, now that those two are all fixed..."

She dropped a coin into the payphone, and dialled a number. The voice at the other end seemed a bit groggy.

"'Lo?"

"Hi, Roy. It's Claudia."

There was a pause, then, "Oh. Hi. Sorry, I was still asleep. Night-time manoeuvres."

"I know." She paused. "Listen, can we get together for a few hours? Lunch, maybe?"

"Sure. Uh...Why?"

She grinned. "Let's call it...giving you a chance to apologize."

"Works for me." She could hear an answering grin in his tone. "Where do you want to meet?"

* * *

**August 1st, 2007**

"They're completely replacing the rank structure."

Ranma scratched his head. "Why? I mean, we're all officers."

Roy pulled his head out of his closet, duffel bag in one hand and a spare gray uniform shirt in the other. "It ain't gonna stay that way. Variable Fighter ops are gonna end up being a blend of ground-force and airborne combat. Ground forces have a very different structure than airborne. So enlisted and officer ranks will be supporting us, but since Variables require less ground crew, there will be fewer of them per jet. Rather than dealing with the enlisted/officer divide, they decided just to lump us into a new twelve-level rank structure. V-designated, instead of E-, O- or S-designated."

Ranma snorted. "So how are they converting all the current ranks?"

"You'll be getting a two-level grade bump."

"Sweet!"

"Your pay won't be going up. It'll make you a Flight Lieutenant, under the new rank structure. That's a V-4. Below you, there's Warrant, Sergeant and Corporal."

"And you?"

"I'll be becoming a V-6, which is a Commander." Roy grabbed a pair of loud Hawai'ian shorts and stuffed them in the duffel. "Since we'll be working hand-in-hand with Navy types, they've decided not to deal with the whole 'Captain' issue; there's no V-rank called Captain. My promotion board has already been scheduled, so by the time they implement it, I'll probably have my O-4, and my three-grade bump will make me a V-7, which is a Major." Roy shook his head. "Effectively, you're getting a demotion, since a Flight Lieutenant is equivelant to a Lieutenant Junior Grade."

"Oh." Ranma rolled his eyes. "I've got a board coming up shortly, too, as soon as there's room in the TO&E for a Captain."

"If you get the bump, you'll be becoming a Squadron Lieutenant."

"Great," Ranma sighed. "I've busted my ass for five years to get my Captaincy, and they're gonna demote me back to Lieutenant."

"Squad Lieutenant gets the same pay as a Jarhead Captain." Roy zipped the duffel. "But it allows you to be XO of a Squadron, and when I get back, whenever that is, I'm gonna be backing you for the XO of the Skull."

"So you don't even know when you'll be back?"

Roy dropped his duffel and turned to face Ranma. "Look, Jarhead. I've told you six dozen times now, at least, that the details are classified. _I_ don't even know all the answers you're looking for. Why not bug the BC?"

Ranma snorted. "We finally get Zero Two online, I got my board comin' up, and you're takin' off. What the hell is this gonna do to our evaluation performance? And my board?"

"You've still got three birds, and that three-unit element idea of yours is working. You're getting temporary command until I get back, which won't hurt your board, so why are you whining?"

"This team is yours, Guppy. Without you--"

"Oh, balls." Roy shook his head. "Every scrap of tactical evolution we've gone through is entirely due to you. I never even thought of the possibilities of the GERWALK configuration."

"That's because you're a Guppy, not a Jarhead." Roy bristled, and Ranma waved a hand. "That ain't an insult, Roy. You think like a naval aviator. I think like a ground-pounder. Just the way we are."

Roy allowed himself to be mollified. "Well, after Khamil augured in, they're without a team lead. And that new fighter they've tangled with, it's eating up conventional forces, so they want to deploy the Phoenixes against it."

"Then why aren't they giving you a Phoenix to fly? Why do they have to take Valkyrie One?"

"Because I'm not checked out on the Phoenix." Roy scowled. "It's gonna be hard enough for me to re-train the Phoenix drivers in _proper_ Variable Fighter tactics." He poked Ranma in the chest. "Now then. Aren't you late for your date with Ensign Hayase?"

"It ain't a date."

Roy snickered. "Right. Tell that to someone who's blind, deaf and ain't ever been to this rock. Everyone on South Ataria knows you two are an item."

"She's got a boyfriend, Roy."

"A boyfriend who's on Mars, who she hasn't seen in nine years. Get real."

"Well, she still thinks of him that way, and I ain't interested in movin' in on her just because he's a couple of million miles away." Ranma shook his head. "Misa and I are great friends, and I don't wanna wreck that."

"You saying you ain't into her?"

"What I'm _sayin'_, Sir, is that I'm too close to her to get any closer. Got it?"

"Okay, whatever. Go have fun. That's an order."

"Yes, Sir." Ranma flashed him a salute - one with only one finger - turned and marched off.

* * *

"Date. Huh. Not with Misa." He shook his head, barely aware that he was muttering to himself. "I mean, she's a great girl, I like her a lot, but...Date? I don't think so."

"Ranma?"

"Hm?" He turned, to see Claudia running towards him. And the look on her face was scary. "What's up?"

"Are you going to Misa's?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Better hurry. There's been an attack on Mars Base."

"What?"

"Some lunatics managed to set off a neutron bomb there." Claudia's voice was broken. "There were no survivors."

"Oh, man...Riber." He turned and ran.

He barely remembered getting there, but then his fist was hammering on her door. There was no answer, and he banged again. "Misa! It's Ranma."

The door opened, and the look on her face nearly broke his heart.

"I just heard...the attack--"

He was cut off as she grabbed him, hugging him fiercely, while tears flowed down her face.

* * *


	9. Chapter Eight: At The Worst Possible

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Eight: At The Worst Possible Time**

**September 9th, 2009**

The bridge doors slid open, and Lieutenant Hayase Misa stepped through. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to force it back into some semblance of order, then stepped over to her bridge station.

_I've been astoundingly lucky so far,_ she mused. _Beat out six other officers, each with more experience than me, to get this post._

Of the new ship's bridge officers, only one was currently present, Claudia LaSalle. The two had formed a strong friendship over the last two years. Claudia was naturally likeable, and always willing to help out. And Lord knows Misa had needed that help.

There were three enlisted techs currently finishing up some work or other; due to the problems with staffing the bridge, those three would be taking part in the ship's launch later today. But they weren't permanently assigned, so they'd be making way for more experienced officers later on.

Misa hid a smile that threatened to break free, and started bringing up her console. There was no room for mistakes today. Not on the first launch of the _Macross_.

* * *

"The Captain has arrived at the stage."

Claudia nodded at Kim's announcement, and watched out of the corner of her eye as Misa brought up her terminal.

"We've got fifteen minutes until the ceremony starts," said Misa. "We might just make it. I wonder what he's been doing...?"

"Maybe he was out partying," mused Claudia. "You know? He left last night saying something about the Earth Defense Council...the sly old fox. They probably stayed up all night drinking beer and rehashing old war stories."

"Not that you'd do anything like that, right Claudia?" There was a teasing tone in Misa's voice...one that Claudia hadn't heard in a long time.

_Let's add some fuel to that fire, shall we?_ "What do you mean by that?"

"You and Major Focker came home together quite early this morning." Misa grinned. "Roy's quite the celebrity around here. Nothing he does escapes notice."

"Staying out all night won't affect my performance." stated Claudia.

"Maybe not yours, but the Major has to fly escort for the Macross later today."

"He can drink all night and it won't affect his flying a bit," muttered Claudia. "In fact, he flies better when drunk. He always brags about shooting down five fighters in the Mayan Incident with a raging hangover."

"Even so, if something were to happen--"

"He'll be fine. I guarantee it!" Claudia sighed. _Almost got her out. But then the martinet shell has to come back up!_ Then a thought crossed her mind. "And what about you and Lieutenant Saotome?"

Lisa took a step back, mouth agape. "That--"

"You two have been a permanent fixture in the White Dragon. Every night, it seems."

"Ranma and I are just friends," protested Misa.

"Oh, wow!" Vanessa Laird, the computer operator, leaned over. "You mean our Lieutenant is interested in men after all?"

"I had no idea!" chimed in Kim Kabriov.

"That's a terrible thing to say!" Shammy Milliome, the sensory operator, jumped right out of her seat. "Who she spends time with is her own business, not ours!"

"Oh, don't worry," Claudia said. "Our Lieutenant Hayase, who graduated top in her class from the Naval Academy, didn't do so with any distractions from men!"

"Why, you--"

Claudia raised a hand, interrupting Misa's lunge. "Check your screen."

Misa turned, and nodded. "Small craft, approaching on bearing one-five-seven." She checked the transponder code and keyed her mike. "One zero one five, please state your affiliation."

The pilot's voice crackled over the speakers. "_Ichigyo Hikaru, invitation number one zero two one._"

She punched the invitation number into the computer. "Confirmed. I see you're with Major Focker. Squawk one zero six seven, and follow ATC instructions for landing."

"_Roger._"

Misa closed the frequency. She watched as the aircraft's transponder code switched to 1067, then transferred control of the airplane to Macross Base Air Traffic Control. "How many do we have left in the list?"

"Sixteen, but seven of them have sent cancellations." Claudia was primary communications officer on the boat, despite the fact that she was currently holding the Tactical station.

"Well, they're going to miss a hell of a show." Misa scowled down at her terminal. "The VIP list is huge. And the number of invitations to girlfriends, family members...I'd hate to be dealing with the security for this event."

"Maistrov is handling the military side of that." Claudia looked up. "For the civilian VIPs, that new security company, Tennasaono, has been retained. They're said to be the best in the business, and such a novel business concept. Every one of their security agents is an attractive young woman...and all of them trained in martial arts, and armed to the teeth." Claudia snickered. "But the part they seem to play is as escorts."

Misa giggled. "Whoever thought up that idea is devious, evil, and probably rolling in credits."

* * *

Ranma pulled back on the pole, watched as the four other fighters in his formation split off, and grinned. The precision allowed by the new fly-by-light system made this manouevre almost child's play, for all that it _looked_ impressive from the ground.

He watched the tac, following the controller's lead, and lined up for the high-speed pass. VT-002, his personal bird since its arrival on this island, would be passing within two meters of Kramer's VT-004 at just under Mach One. He had to keep a firm hand on the throttle. With the new fusion powerplants, keeping the bird below the speed of sound required effort. He lined up on Kramer's jet, and kept one eye on it and the other on his glide-path needles.

Then nearly panicked as a civilian race job blundered square between them. He gaped at it, then double-checked his needles. If he kept course, and Kramer did the same, they'd miss him. If only Kramer realized the same thing...

Apparently he did; the two jets slid above and below the pusher-prop aircraft, missing it by centimeters on either side.

Ranma clicked his mike. "Who the fuck was that?"

"_Language on the air, Zero Two._" Roy's voice came over the air. "_Is that you, Hikaru?_"

A new voice came on. "_I know that voice. How are ya doin', Roy? Long time no see!_"

"_'Long time no see?' Is that all ya got to say for yourself, you moron? You blunder into a formation flight, no idea where those airplanes are going--_"

"_Oh, that's cold, Roy. Especially considering you sent me the invitation._"

Ranma brought his Valkyrie around, wings fully extended, and fell in on the prop job's wing. Most likely, Roy would order one of them to escort him in.

"_Nobody asked you to buzz around in a prop plane._"

"_Hey, I know what I'm doing._"

"You _might, but those birds up there_ don't _know what you're doing, and that makes it dangerous. So keep your head small enough to fit in your flight helmet, you stupid bastard. You never could fly without being in my slipstream._"

Hikaru's reply was light, almost bantering. "_I'm going to have to make you eat those words,_ sempai."

A roar of flame jutted from the back of the prop job, and Ranma gaped as the little plane rocketed forward under astounding acceleration. He firewalled his own engine, followed the plane into its booster climb, and to his chagrin was forced to activate his overthrusters to keep up. His airspeed indicator pegged Mach 1.7 before the prop's solid rocket boosters burned out. He brought the Valkyrie over in a split-s as the prop job stalled out, followed it down as it restarted its engine, and escorted it to touchdown.

Ranma killed his engines, popped the canopy, and jumped out. He ran over to the prop job, pulled its canopy open, and dragged the pilot out bodily.

"Whoa, Saotome."

Ranma glanced up to see Roy walking up briskly. "You want this puke dead, or merely beaten within an inch of his life, Sir?"

"Let him go, Saotome."

Ranma ground his teeth, and turned his attention back to the pilot. "You're right lucky that the Major seems to like you, punk." He dropped him roughly, and turned to Roy. "What the hell, Sir? Anyone else who interfered with that flight, you woulda let me pound his ass."

"Hikaru's an old friend of mine, Saotome. Don't worry, I'll rip a strip out of his hide for you." Roy's expression made it obvious that he was torn between rage and amusement. "Go park your bird, and grab something to eat. We've got another demonstration flight at sixteen hundred."

"Aye aye, Sir." He scowled down at Hikaru, still lying on the pavement. "You're a pretty good pilot, kid. I gotta admit that. But next time you blunder into a military formation, remember this: Your bird ain't armed."

* * *

Ranma stepped into the White Dragon...and promptly got a face full of water.

"Oh! Sorry about that, Ranma."

Ranma chuckled as she wiped the water out of her eyes. "No problem, Minmay." Every time she came in here, she ended up with water spilled on her, one way or another. He wasn't certain if Minmay was doing it out of hero worship - the girl was quite taken with Ranma's accomplishments, especially after hearing some of the details of the mission that got Ranma the Medal of Valour - or if she was doing it just for fun.

By now, everyone on the whole damned base knew about the curse - she never could keep it quiet.

"Oh, yeah, by the way. There's a woman here looking for you. I told her you'd probably be in some time today, and she's been waiting about three hours."

"Really?" Ranma blinked. "She give a name?"

"No." Minmay shook her head. "Just said she was part of the civilian security team."

"Where is she?" Minmay pointed, and Ranma gaped. "No way."

"Who is she?"

"She's my sister-in-law." Ranma walked over, and grinned down at the woman. "Long time no see, Nabs."

"Don't call me that." Nabiki's eyes laughed up at her, for all that her expression remained serious. "How are you doing, little sister?"

"Pretty good." Ranma sat down. "Except that I ain't a sister."

"Currently, you are." Nabiki leaned back. "Pretty good plum fell in my lap for this one; my security agents are covering all the civilian VIPs for this gig. Including Jamis Merlin."

"_Your_ security agents?"

"Tennasaono is my company. Or rather," she allowed, "mine and my business partner."

"Tennasaono..." Ranma blinked. "Mom is your business partner?"

"Yep." Nabiki grinned. "I always thought you were smarter than you let on, Saotome."

"Not that that's hard," laughed Ranma. "So who are you covering?"

"Nobody. I'm just here to oversee the girls." Nabiki slid a teapot over to Ranma. "Here."

"I'll wait." Ranma grinned. "If I change back right now, this flight suit is gonna chafe in all the wrong places."

"So Minmay tells me you're in here all the time with a certain Lieutenant."

"It's not what you think!" Ranma raised his hands. "Misa and I have been friends for something like ten years now."

"Sounds like it could be more."

"We've both lost someone, Nabs. Neither of us really wants to--"

"I take it back. You're as stupid as ever." Nabiki scowled. "Akane died fourteen years ago, Ranma. It's a bit long to still be carrying the candle."

"Misa's boyfriend died only two years ago." Ranma looked down at his hands. "Besides, I don't have a lot of good friends, and I don't want to risk screwing up a friendship."

"That was always your problem, Ranma."

"Well, let's admit it's a problem, and ignore it, then." Ranma looked up. "How's Mom doin'?"

"Pretty good. She and your dad broke up a few years after you left. He didn't approve of her working with me."

Ranma snorted. "He was a sexist asshole. I'm surprised they lasted that long. How about your family?"

"Kasumi tied the knot a few years back."

"Tofu?"

"No, we still have no idea where he is. She finally gave up waiting for him, and married some other guy. A massage therapist. We sent you an invite to the wedding, but I guess it never reached you."

"I've been on this island for three years, under a complete blackout."

"Might be why." Nabiki drew in a deep breath. "And some bad news...Daddy died last year."

"What happened?"

"He just...gave up, I think. With Akane dead, you gone, and even Auntie Nodoka giving up on the dojo...he just couldn't handle it any more." She looked down. "He died two days after Kasumi had her daughter." She looked up again, and scowled at Ranma's expression. "Don't you dare blame yourself for that, Saotome! You did right, even Daddy admitted that."

"I..." He sighed. "I guess I still blame myself for Akane."

"Well, Daddy didn't. Auntie Nodoka certainly doesn't. She was mad as nails that she couldn't come today." She chuckled. "Wanted to see how her manly son looked in uniform."

"I don't look real manly right now," quipped Ranma, and the two shared a laugh. "Minmay has a bad habit of splashing me every time I come in here."

"Anyway, she sends her love. And she wants to know when you're gonna give her some grandkids."

"Typical." Ranma chuckled.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Ranma glanced up. "Hey, Misa. Thought you had bridge duty today?"

"I do. Lunch break." She sat down at the table. "Roy told me you were heading here for a meal yourself. That was half an hour ago, but I figured you'd still be eating."

"I'm a martial artist. We got big appetites." Ranma grinned. "Actually, I've been catching up with Nabs here on family business."

Nabiki bowed. "Tendo Nabiki, Ma'am."

"Oh, I've heard lots about you." Misa grinned.

"Great. There goes my rep." Nabiki grinned back. "So you're Ranma's new girlfriend, eh?"

Misa blinked. "It--" She turned on Ranma. "Did you tell her that?"

Ranma shook her head. "It's Minmay's fault, not mine. I _thought_ I'd disabused Nabs of that idea, but I see that her taste for humiliatin' me hasn't been lost."

"Ranma and I are just friends, Miss Tendo."

"Call me Nabiki." She waved a hand artlessly. "And yeah, Ranma's telling the truth. She told me you two were just friends."

"The whole damn _base_ seems to think we're lyin'," muttered Ranma.

"I don't care about the entire base," stated Misa. "What concerns me is that _Claudia_ thinks we're lying. You know how she loves to play the matchmaker."

Nabiki chuckled. "So, you're Ranma's best friend, and nothing more. Excellent. This means I can trot out all my best stories. Ranma ever tell you about the time he met Kurenai Tsubasa?"

Ranma's expression of annoyance changed to one of horror. "Oh, no way. Not that story!"

Misa chuckled. "Okay, this I have to hear."

* * *

"A bunny suit!" Misa chuckled. "Of all things."

"I see someone enjoyed her lunch." Claudia watched as Misa brought her terminal back up.

"Ranma' sister-in-law joined us for lunch." Misa grinned. "She had some stories from back when they were kids."

"Oh?" Claudia chuckled. "Bunny suit, eh? How did that happen?"

"Oh, no." Misa shook her head. "I'm not telling you." A wicked grin crossed her face. "You can ask Ranma yourself. Just mention the name Tsubasa."

"Ma'am?" Shammy turned in her seat. "I've got a gravitic anomaly on my scope. And ARMD-01 reports a luminescent phenomena from the same region."

"Where?" Misa was suddenly all business.

"Behind the moon."

"Show me the readings."

Shammy tapped her keys, and Misa frowned at the data that appeared in her terminal. "Looks familiar."

"It matches the patterns from the arrival of the _Macross_." Claudia scowled. "Except it's a lot bigger."

"I've got pinpoint sources now. The signal is fading. One hundred and twenty point sources...They're gone."

"Could it be a space fold?"

"Don't know. We've not had a chance to experiment with the fold system yet, don't even know if it works. But this looks like the projected data." Misa bit her lip. "I think we'd better contact the Captain."

* * *

"We saw the same sort of phenomenon ten years ago." Global nodded to Commander Baker. "We'd better get to the bridge."

They departed the stage, much to the consternation of Senator O'Donnell, who was about to introduce Global. The elevator deposited them next to the staff car that had brought them, and Global got behind the wheel and started it up. Baker jumped over the hood, slid across to the passenger-side door, and got in. "Lieutenants Hayase and LaSalle are starting liftoff preparations."

Global tromped the gas, and aimed the car for the nearest hatch on the ship. He hit the ramp at nearly top speed, and drove into the ship. Given the size of the previous management, the ship's corridors were more than broad enough for motor traffic. "Any word on Gold, Kanehema or Park?"

"None have reached the island yet. Park's en route, but Gold and Kanehema are still tied up groundside."

"We might have to launch with nothing but enlisted techs, Number One. That's going to make your job more difficult."

"The XO's job is always difficult," Baker grinned. "I've got your back, Sir."

Global chuckled, then brought the car to a stop. "I want you to report to Auxilary Control, make sure everything's under control there. Then report to Lieutenant Commander Lang, find out where we are with engines."

"Aye, Sir."

Global climbed out of the driver's seat, allowing Baker to take the wheel, then punched the lift's priority button. "As soon as I find out what's happening, I'll comm you."

"Yes, Sir." Baker pulled the car into reverse, backing away from the lift, then peeled off down the corridor.

* * *

"The entire system is going haywire." Claudia was flipping switches and rotating dials to no avail. "It's all coming online, and I can't shut it down!"

"Captain on the bridge."

Global rubbed his forehead - while the bridge had been built with humans in mind, they weren't built with his 195 centimeter frame as a model; the hatch was five centimeters too low. "Status?"

"All systems under computer control, and we can't override," stated Misa. "The main gun is activating."

"What about targeting?"

"Sensors have detected two ships moving into Earth orbit. They came from the approaching fleet, and--" She paused. "Yes. The targeting array has locked onto them."

"Where are they? Show me the sensory data."

"Yes, Sir." Misa tapped keys. "They're over Saudi Arabia, coming up over the horizon in thirty seconds."

Global smacked a fist down on the console. "Get me Lang."

"On the air, Sir."

"Lang, this is the Captain. Can you shut down the power feeds to the main gun?"

"Negative, Sir." The chief engineer's voice sounded uncommonly frazzled. "Our systems are ignoring all commands we send, and unless you want us to damage the feed--"

"We might be needing it shortly."

"Main gun is firing, Sir!"

Parasitic energy was crackling between the two booms of the main gun; as he turned to watch, the gravitic cannon discharged. The beam itself was invisible, and travelled nearly sixty-four times faster than light, but it incinerated the air between them and the target, leaving a trail of plasma behind it. Misa looked back to her displays, saw the beam penetrate one of the two approaching ships just as it hove over the horizon. _Both_ ships vanished off her scope, the second probably torn apart by secondary gravitic waves.

"Systems have been returned to our control."

Global stared out over the horizon. The main gun had punched a hole straight through the mountain at the center of the island. Luckily, the town beneath the ship was unharmed, but Global rather doubted that that would last.

"This could have been a peaceful first contact," he said bitterly. "Now all they'll see is that _we_ fired first."

"Sir, the ship's computers had identified the targets as being hostile."

"It doesn't matter. _We fired first._" He shook his head. "It must have been a trap. Left in the computers by the original designers."

"More ships are approaching, Sir. And they're launching small craft."

"And the main gun?"

"It's in recharge cycle, Captain. Fifteen minutes."

"God help us." Global paused to take a breath. "All Valkyrie squadrons will scramble to repel invaders. Destroid teams stand by for ground combat. All forces, move out!"

* * *

Ranma visually inspected the ordnance loaded on his aircraft. The Diamondback missiles - white-painted warshots, instead of exercise weapons - were still tagged, but otherwise ready to fire. Orange-suited ordnance specialists started removing the tags, uncaging the seeker heads, and Ranma nodded. His preflight external examination complete, he scrambled up the crew ladder, and dropped into the office.

Across the flight line, he saw the assembled members of VFA-113 - the ancient and honourable Jolly Rogers, reborn as a Valkyrie squadron - prepping for takeoff. The QF-3000 Ghost rocket-powered interceptors were already airborne, their AIs allowing them punishing acceleration that would have turned flesh-and-bone pilots into chunky salsa. They would meet the enemy at forty kilometers up, but Ranma doubted they'd accomplish much.

_Never send a robot to do a man's job._

He checked his systems, and nodded, pleased with the results. His personal airplane, the _Switchblade_, was one of the prototype Valkyries, with two head lasers to the usual one and lacking the two fuselage ordnance slots. Externally quite different from the production model fighters, its internals had been upgraded to match the VF-1 Alpha Block Two Valkyries coming straight from the factory.

Two hundred and twelve Valkyries, in total, had been assigned to Macross. Ten full squadrons of eighteen birds (plus two spares) each, and twelve training birds, the two-seat VF-1D. And Roy, CO of the Jolly Rogers, also wore the hat for command of First Combat Air Division, putting him nominally in charge of VFA-114, the Gunfighters, as well.

But that wouldn't matter in a purely tactical situation. Such as this one.

He watched as Roy's personal bird, known as _Skull One_, started taxiing.

"_Okay, ladies. The show starts in ten minutes. Let's not be late._"

* * *

"ARMD-01 reports massive damage. ARMD-02 has taken minor damage. Three more enemy craft destroyed by heavy nuclear missile barrage, but ARMD-02 has been forced to break off the attack."

"City evacuation is proceeding."

"Skull Squadron now leaving the deck." In place of the squadron's full name, a call sign was used. "Brown Squadron drawing to the line, and all weapons are green."

"Give Skull one more minute to get off the deck, and then give them the go."

"Aye, Ma'am."

Misa's primary role on the massive starship was as its flight operations officer. Because they needed to fit in the TO&E _somewhere_, she also managed Destroid operations.

_Not that they're gonna make it into this fight._

"Small craft have crossed the ionosphere. About half of them are launching fighters; the other half are still dropping. They may be trying to land troops."

"Thank you, PO Milliome." Misa tapped her keys. "PO Laird, set up the Ghosts for an intercept on the small craft that have _not_ launched fighters."

"Aye aye, Ma'am."

Misa clicked on her comms. "Skull Lead, Gunsight One. BarCAP. Your vector two six five for two forty."

"_Roger that._" Roy's visor was still open, and his oxygen mask dangled loosely. He winked at Misa. "_And hearin' your lovely voice reminds me of why I'm fighting today._"

Claudia leaned over so that her face would appear on his terminal. "And why would that be, Major?"

"_Why, for the future of the human race!_" He flashed them both a thumbs-up, then strapped on the oxygen mask.

"Vampire!"

"Where?"

"From two seven zero. Range is still one fifty."

Claudia tapped controls. "Bringing anti-aircraft batteries to intercept." Through the massive fish-dome of the bridge's forward wall, they watched the AA batteries rotate to face the incoming threat.

"Firing."

SA-33 "Swordfish" missiles rippled from their packs. But the oncoming horde of missiles was too thick to realistically whittle down. About a third got through, and started hammering the city and airbase.

"They're not hitting the ship," mused Global.

"Wonder why?"

"Most of them hit the base, a few hit the city. Evacuation is still proceeding, sixty percent complete." Misa clicked back to the tactical display. And blinked. "Vee Tee One Oh Two still hasn't left the parade grounds."

"Who's assigned to it?"

"Who cares?" She tapped issuance commands into the computer, directing fuelers and ordies to the bird, then clicked open her link. "Vee Tee One Oh Two, Gunsight One. Respond."

"_Huh?_" The pilot's voice was somewhat confused. Misa's face darkened. _How could anyone sleep through a full alert?_

"Why are you still on the ground? We're at full alert!" Her anger was showing through her tone of voice now, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Claudia shaking her head. But she ignored the other woman; she had a job to do.

And so did the idiot in VT-102.

"Get in the air, right now!"

"_The runway is a mess._" It was the first coherent thing he'd said.

"Runway nine is clear." She watched the aircraft power up, then closed the channel. "How could anyone fall asleep during a _battle?_"

"Ghosts have reached interception range, and are launching missiles." Vanessa scowled. "Six dropshuttles knocked down...their fighter escort is carving up the Ghosts...seven knocked down...eight..." She turned to Misa. "All Ghost interceptors have been shot down or are out of missiles. Eight dropshuttles destroyed."

"Not too bad for a loss of twenty-four robot jets."

"Skull has reached intercept range."

* * *

The manoeuvreability of the fighter pods was just plain stupid. They twisted and turned with disgusting ease, and Ranma roared angrily as he watched a Skull get vapourized. The alien fighters carried some kind of directed-energy nose gun - not a laser; given the way it jumped erratically, probably a particle cannon. Due to their inaccurate nature, they fired in streams, producing an effect much like a shotgun.

_And they're fast! How can they be so fast, so nimble, and carry such a heavy gun?_

He lined up one in his gunsights, and triggered the laser cannons. Both beams stabbed straight through the pod, blowing it apart almost instantly.

_Oh. That's how._

He clicked open his mike. "Skull One, Skull Eight. The targets are very fragile; one hit kills 'em. Suggest we use the turrets. It'll up our hit count."

"_Good thinking, Skull Eight._" There was a pause. "_Oh, you've gotta be kiddin' me._"

"Skull One, what's up?"

"_Hikaru's found his way into a Valkyrie--_"

"_What?_"

"_Don't worry. For once it's not his fault._" _Skull One_ peeled off of their formation. "_Lieutenant Hayase ordered him off the tarmac, not realizing he was a civvy. I'll go take care of him._"

"Roger."

* * *

"Status of the antigravity servos?"

Baker's voice was tinny through the intercom. "_Full power available at your discretion, Captain. And we've isolated that booby trap program and killed it._"

"Good. Stand by in case we need to take off." Global closed the link.

"Skull is mopping up the invading fighters. Brown is getting hurt, though."

"Dropshuttles have gotten past the fighter screen." Shammy adjusted her instruments. "They'll land on the west side of the island, possibly in the water."

A proximity alarm sounded, and Misa stared at her board. "Oh, shit. This idiot again." She clicked open the link. "Vee Tee One Zero Two, alter course. You're going to crash into us!"

"_Tell me something I don't know!_" The pilot sounded panicked. "_Rudders and spoilers are both fried._"

"That won't affect GERWALK mode. Have you tried that?"

"_What the hell is GERWALK?_"

The question was unexpected enough to bring silence across the bridge.

"Oh, my God. He's lost it." Misa leaned forward. "Pull the G lever on the left side of the console. Once you've recovered the aircraft, pull the B lever."

"Got it."

Misa glanced at her screen, watched the incoming Valkyrie slew off its suidical course, and drop into the city. She turned to Claudia. "I need to know who's in that bird. He's a loose cannon, an idiot, and he's going to do more damage--"

Claudia had already pulled the flight roster. "Misa."

Misa shut up.

"That bird isn't assigned." Claudia turned her display so that Misa could read it. "Pulled off the flight roster for public display."

"You mean..."

"Could be anyone in there, and we've got no way of knowing."

"Great. Just fantastic." She turned back to her board. "Brown, break off. Cerulean, we're expecting invasion forces. Get into the city."

There could have been a worse time for the doors to open and for Senator O'Donnell to stride in, lit cigar smouldering. Personally, Misa couldn't think of one.

"Well, Captain. Looks like we got this ship finished just in the nick of time." O'Donnell examined the coal of his cigar. "When do you take off?"

Misa glanced over at Claudia. "Take off? Is he serious?"

"I hope not." Claudia shook her head. "We're missing half our officers, and the only ship's system we know for certain is working is the main gun."

Global was making much the same point to O'Donnell, but to limited avail. Finally, he turned away from the smaller man, and sighed.

"We're not ready for this." His voice was not much higher than a mumble. "We're just not ready." He glanced over at Kim. "PO Kabriov, start the countdown."

"Aye, Sir." Kim was nineteen at the oldest, terribly scared, and prepared to do her duty nonetheless. "Takeoff in T minus one twenty...mark. Reactor coming to full power."

"Takeoff at zed positive fifty. Departure corridor is clear."

"Helm answers ready for bells, Captain."

"Antigravity system now at full power."

"Sixty seconds."

Global settled into his chair. "Release all docking grapples."

"Docking grapples are released, all hatches are sealed."

"Environmental plant fully on-line."

"Full power to reactors in five seconds."

"Liftoff T minus thirty seconds."

The chatter fell off on the bridge, as tasks were completed. Finally, Claudia stated, "Fifteen seconds. Final launch clearance?"

"Launch clearance is go." Global adjusted his hat.

"Aye, Sir. T minus ten...nine...eight..."

Misa leaned back against her seat.

"Seven...six..."

Shammy and Kim belted themselves in.

"Five...four..."

Vanessa sat down at her station, and adjusted her own webbing.

"Three...two...one..."

"Macross: Launch!"

* * *


	10. Chapter Nine: The Unfriendly Skies

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Nine: The Unfriendly Skies**

**September 9th, 2009**

"_Skull Eight, you've got two on your tail. Five o'clock high._"

"Got it." Ranma shifted to GERWALK - reconfiguration had its own controls in the Block Two - and spun on a dime, blasting first one and then the other fighter pod with short bursts from the GU-11 cannon. He pulled the F lever and shifted back to pure jet, firewalled the engine to avoid stalling, and dove towards the next cluster.

The manoeuvre seeked to catch the aliens by surprise, and he was able to blast three more before they recovered. "Seems they didn't like that, Skull One."

"_Noted. Skull team, switch between GERWALK and fighter mode; looks like it confuses them. Don't expect it to last, but let's use it while we can._"

Ranma glanced towards the city. "Looks like the _Macross_ is getting into the fight."

* * *

The _thrum_ of the massive ship's antigravity servos shattered windows throughout Macross City. Massive struts groaned as the force on them lessened for the first time in five years, and the _Macross_ slowly and gracefully lifted away from the ground. No arcing climb or sharp angle of attack; the enormous starship drew itself straight up, shaking the dust of its resting place from its keel.

Claudia double-checked her instruments, and nodded in satisfaction. "All gyros read zero precession; our trim bubbles show zero by zero."

"Perfect takeoff," murmured Misa. "No problems at all."

Let the gentle reader take note: There are certain words that should never be said during any significant undertaking. The first launch of Humanity's first interstellar space craft, on its maiden voyage to defend their planet from alien invaders, certainly qualifies as the latter. And Misa's unfortunate choice of words would, of course, fall into the category of the former.

A massive groan sounded throughout the ship.

"...the hell?" Claudia grabbed her console to stabilize herself. "Massive precession; my bubbles are sliding off by three degrees...four...Captain, we're listing badly!"

"My God." Misa pointed shakily out the fishbowl of the bridge port. "Captain, the hull!"

Global staggered forward, and gaped as the deckplates forward of the bridge deformed. Explosions dotted the hull as components failed. One large piece of machinery tore straight through the deckplates and hovered above them, trailing cabling and support structures, until something gave way, power was lost, and it smashed down to the deck.

"The antigravity servos...they're tearing away from the hull, instead of lifting it!" Global shook his head.

Misa managed to find her voice. "We must not have reinforced them enough...too much damage to the original hull ribbing..._something_ or _someone_ failed."

"Oh, this is a catastrophe."

"I've adjusted trim, Captain." Claudia had, at least, managed to maintain her calm. "We can't rise, cannot even hover, but I can put her down safely."

"Gently?"

She shook her head. "Buckle in, Sir."

Global smacked the allcall. "Crash quarters. All hands, brace for impact!"

_Macross_ returned to the earth that it had left so briefly. The support struts were designed to hold the ship up from the ground, but were not made so toughly as to catch the ship as it crashed. They buckled under the mass, folding like so much rice paper. One kicked out from under the ship, went flying through a twenty-storey office complex before coming to rest atop a vehicle repair depot. A massive cloud of dust obscured everything within a kilometer of the impact site.

But _Macross_ had survived a far worse crash than this. Alert klaxons sounded throughout the ship, damage control parties rushed about like ants, but the ship remained in one piece.

Global picked himself up off the deck, dusted off his uniform, and adjusted his cap. "All stations, report."

"Sensory offline," reported Shammy. "Self-test all clean, so I think it's just an alignment problem."

"Communications still up, but without sensory, we've got no long range comms."

"Tactical still online. Weapon systems responsive." Misa shook her head. "Tactical officer will be back online shortly."

Claudia scowled at her console. "Antigravity system's a write-off, Sir. Fold system reports no damage. Primary luminal thrusters online. Lift thrusters online. Attitude thrusters nominal, but damage control parties are working to improve that. Gyros scrambled."

"Primary and secondary mainframes still online." Vanessa quickly ran another diagnostic. "Thirty percent of satellite terminals are offline."

"Christ." Global shook his head. "Sixty seconds into our first flight, and we get _this._"

Misa glanced over her shoulder. "That's what we get for buying used, Sir."

* * *

Ranma gaped as _Macross_ smashed into the ground. But he couldn't afford to waste any time dwelling on the disaster; Skull Team was still outnumbered six to one in the combat area. He dragged his attention away from the crash site and concentrated on waxing his next bandit. It didn't take long, and he shifted to GERWALK to spin and engage the next.

The aliens still hadn't adjusted to the Valkyrie's reconfiguration, and for that he was more than a bit grateful. He pickled off another missile - his last one - and watched the alien pod explode.

And then the aliens broke off. He watched in surprise as the fighter pods scattered to the four winds. Sixteen more were shot down by the Skulls before they outdistanced the human weaponry.

"Looks like we got 'em demoralized." Roy's voice was jubilant.

* * *

"Contacts are scattering, and pulling away from pursuit. The Valkyries can't pace them."

"No need to try," said Global.

"Major Focker on Tac, Sir."

The screen cleared, and Roy's face appeared. He had just finished unsnapping his oxygen mask. "_Gunsight One, this is Skull Leader. We have met the enemy, and they are running for their miserable lives._"

Claudia leaned into range of the pickup, all but shoving Misa aside. "And how many did you get, Roy?"

"_Only ten this time._"

"Gee, that brings you up to one hundred and eighteen." She winked at him. "Going for Ace Cubed?"

"_They got a decoration for that?_"

"If I may." Misa's voice was a bit frosty. "Major, we've got a problem. Vee Tee One Oh Two crash-landed in the city. He's reconfigured to Battroid Mode, but he's blundering about causing more damage than the enemy."

"_Yeah, I can take care of him. Quick question, though, Lieutenant?_"

"What's that?"

"_Why did you order the launch of an aircraft, pulled for public display? Especially with a civilian at the controls?_"

"_Civilian?_" Misa paled. "Oh, my God. I didn't know--"

"_Why didn't you_ check?"

"Calm down, Roy." Claudia broke in. "Misa screwed up, and so far it's been the only screw-up we can blame on a human. And the guy's okay, so it's not even that bad." Claudia looked rather cross. "So lay off her, okay? We've had a hard day at the office."

"_Okay, you win. A little respect. Got it._" Roy waved it off. "_I'll go pick up Hikaru._" He clicked the display off before either of the two bridge officers could say another word.

"Hikaru...as in _Ichigyo_ Hikaru?"

Claudia clucked. "Well, now you know why he was so upset."

* * *

"_Skull Team, this is Skull Leader. Recover aboard_ Macross_, get fed and watered, grab forty winks if you can get it._"

"Roger. Skull Bravo, head to the barn."

"Roger."

Ranma's Flight had formed up after the scattering of the enemy forces, and the five Valkyries - Skull Nine not being much more than iron filings now - peeled off and flew back towards _Macross_. Ranma glanced at the tactical display. All six fighters were shown there, in a three by two grid, displaying stores and known battle damage. But Hannum's fighter was all in red, with a big X through it. He glanced up again, looking out over their formation, and saw Mark Kramer, Skull Seven, Flight Commander of Skull Bravo, off his starboard wing.

Kramer pointed to the left. Ranma glanced over, saw the other three aircraft, Skulls Ten through Twelve, to his right.

And realized that he was in the number-two space.

_Traditions may be goofy. They may be silly. They might even be obsolete. But they ain't worthless._

Slowly, he pulled back on the stick, bringing his Valkyrie up and out of the V-shaped formation. The remaining fighters flew on towards base, with the one empty space in the V for Peter Hannum.

* * *

"Skull Team has recovered, except for Skull One." Misa couldn't bring herself to admit that Focker was out there cleaning up her mess. "Brown is lining up for traps now. Vermilion Team is gone. Cerulean has taken heavy damage. Eleven of their birds are gone." She paused. "Given the number of fighter pods destroyed, we did pretty good, Captain."

"Except that the enemy fielded about as many fighters for this one engagement as we have total strength in Valkyries."

"Message from COMUNPAC, Sir." Kim paused, one hand at her headset. "We are to launch and rendezvous with ARMD-02."

"Launch how?" Claudia's voice was bitter; among other things, the helms was her job. "Our antigravity servos are just plain _gone_, and we sure as hell can't _fold_ there."

"PO Kabriov, patch me through to Engineering."

"Aye, Captain." She paused. "Bridge for ChEng. Okay, thank you. Hold for the Skipper." She glanced over. "ChEng on comms, Sir."

"Thank you, PO." Global picked up the handset. "Lang. What's the status of the nuclear pulse drive?"

Misa glanced back at Claudia. "You said that the luminal and lifting rockets were functional."

"Yeah, but they're meant for use out of atmosphere. We're gonna irradiate everything on this island if we use them here."

Global hung up the handset, and turned to the two officers. "Misa, plot a course for luminal drive from here to ARMD-02."

"Aye, Sir."

"Also, I have bad news." He sighed. "XO Baker is in surgery, but he's not expected to survive. You're acting XO, as of now."

"Sir, Claudia's got both rank and experience on me--"

"Lieutenant LaSalle is a ground-pounder. You're the only UN Spacy officer on this ship right now, except for Major Focker. And he's going to be too busy where he is now."

"Aye, Sir." Misa turned back to her display. "Plotting course."

"Lieutenant LaSalle, begin primary ignition on the lift engines."

"I sure hope they work," mused Misa.

"They will, Misa."

She turned, stunned that the Captain had heard her from halfway across the bridge. He looked up at her, and smiled.

"They were made on Earth."

* * *

_Macross_ rose again from the island, this time on a pillar of radioactive fire. Two kilometers up, she tilted, her nose pointed into the sky, and her main drive lit off, driving the ship skyward.

In the Jolly Rogers' ready room, Ranma leaned back, bone-weariness almost overtaking him. Between the series of emotional shocks he'd gotten in the last twenty-four hours, and the brutal hour of air-to-air combat, the death of Pete Hannum, the knowledge that a total of thirty pilots and their precious Valkyries had been lost - _Macross_ was down to only the Gunfighters, most of the Rogers, and a few remnants of Diamondback - he was just about ready to collapse.

_It's a good sign that I've been slippin' in my martial arts trainin'. Used to be I could keep this sorta punishment up for a week solid._

_Or maybe I'm just gettin' older?_

The hatch of the ready room hissed open, and Ranma looked up, to see Roy enter. Behind him were Ichigyo and, to Ranma's surprise, Minmay.

"Yo, Sir. What's goin' on?"

"We're making rendezvous with ARMD-02. Four of her Valkyrie squadrons are being transferred to us." Roy snorted. "Most of them got no legacy, though. Their call signs are also their squadron names. The Sepia, Angel and Green squadrons. We're also getting the Wolf Pack."

"Great." Ranma nodded. "We need the pilots."

"Yeah."

Ranma indicated the two civilians. "What are these two doin' here?"

"Hikaru managed to save Minmay, down on the island, so I decided that I might as well bring them both here. Once we clear off the intruders, I can take them both back to South Ataria."

"Assuming that there's anything left for me down there," grumbled Ichigyo. "My racer was parked on the airbase tarmac. But the tarmac was hammered with missiles, had a giant ship dropped on it, then blasted by the fire from the rockets."

"Don't worry, Hikaru." Roy poured himself a cup of coffee and slammed it back. "I had your racer moved to one of our hangar bays."

"You talk like that little bird is all you have in life," noted Ranma.

"It is." Hikaru dropped onto the couch opposite Ranma. "My parents are both dead - Mom died from cancer, three years after I was born, and Dad screwed up a stunt and crashed."

Roy and Ranma both winced; "crash" was a word never used by fighter pilots, on the somewhat superstitious grounds that if you mentioned something bad, it was certain to happen.

"Well, you've still got Roy. Didn't you two grow up together or something?"

"Yeah, I taught Hikaru everything he knows about flying." Roy grinned.

Hikaru bristled at that.

"That explains his skill." Ranma nodded. "For that matter, Roy, he might exceed your own skills soon." He leaned forward. "Ever thought of flying military, kid?"

"You're wasting your breath, Jarhead." Roy grinned. "I've already tried; he ain't interested."

"Really? You saved Minmay earlier, if I heard the Guppy correctly. Right?"

"Yeah."

"That's what flyin' military means. Savin' lives, protectin' your friends and loved ones."

"It means killing."

"It means killing those who would otherwise kill the people you care about," corrected Ranma. "Look, kid. I've been a martial artist since before you were born. But it was sixteen years before I actually killed someone. Because the alternative was to let him kill my wife." Ranma looked down. "I wasn't at all proud that I killed someone. In fact, I felt like shit for a long time afterwards. But I _was_ proud that I saved Akane's life."

There was a pause, broken by Roy. "You need a haircut, Jarhead. You've been letting it grow since you got to the island."

"You're one to talk." Ranma grinned.

"Yeah, but you're getting really shaggy. Hair that long, you look like a girl."

"Well, if it's that long...it might just finally be long enough." He reached back, and gathered the hair together, quickly braided it, and grinned. "Great. I've missed this. Minmay, gimme an elastic or somethin'." She passed one over, and he tied the pigtail off. "About freakin' time. I spent most of a whole year, back in high school, tryin' to keep a lunatic from cuttin' my hair. Three months after, I signed up with the JSDF, and they cut it all off, and I had to let 'em."

"You know, Jarhead, that actually looks...right for you."

"I'd worn a pigtail from when I was five until I joined the JSDF." He shook his head. "Never realized how much of who I was was bound up in that old pigtail." He reached into his breast pocket, and extracted a battered clump of hair. "When they cut it off, I carried it, been carryin' it, for the last ten years, as a good luck charm."

"And they say us Guppies are weird. Hikaru, I'll take you to your racer now."

"Great." Hikaru jumped up. "Minmay, you coming?"

The girl shook her head. "If it's all right with you...I think I'll stay here."

Hikaru's gaze turned dark, and it was pointed at Ranma, not at Minmay. "I promised to get you back to the island--"

Roy broke in. "You won't be able to do that just yet, Hikaru. Your little racer is a great plane, but it ain't spaceworthy."

Hikaru frowned. "Good point."

"But as soon as we get dirtside again, you can take her back. Now come on."

The two younger pilots left the compartment. Ranma heard the water running behind him, and braced himself.

Sure enough, the water splashed over him, rendering him female. Minmay sat down opposite her, and grinned. "That pigtail looks really cute on you, Ranma-chan!"

Ranma rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

* * *

"Orbital match in three hundred seconds...mark."

"Armour Two's squadrons have recovered aboard _Macross_. Text message from Armour Two..." Kim paused. "'Many wounded, request permission to transfer to Macross.'" Kim turned in her seat. "Skipper, Captain Fredericks has announced intention to abandon ship and fire his scuttling charges."

"Deploy docking tackle, and prepare to take aboard her crew."

"Aye, Sir."

"_Miranda_, _Europa_ and _Trieste_ report vector match, and Commodore Tremblay sends his respects. CruDiv Two will provide escort."

"To CO CruDiv Two: Our thanks, and our welcome."

Shammy scowled at her instruments. "Captain..."

"Yes, PO?"

"I've got a number of thermal sources from ahead...sixteen point sources. Looks like someone using nuclear pulse drives." Her eyes widened. "High-energy event, ahead. Five by thirteen!"

"Evasive!"

Massive beams of energy slashed through space. By some miracle - a miracle that Captain Global was no longer certain was unintentional - _Macross_ was unhit. Her companions, on the other hand, were not so lucky.

"Armour Two destroyed." Shammy's voice was horrified, but she kept her head, and did her job. "_Miranda_ destroyed, _Europa_ heavily damaged and breaking off."

"Send to CO _Trieste_: Bug out, before they noticed they missed you." Global turned to Misa. "Lieutenant Hayase. Status of the main gun?"

"Still recharging, Captain. Sixty seconds to full power."

"PO Milliome. Show me our targets."

"Aye, Sir." Shammy punched up the approaching fleet. "Confirmed, sixteen targets. They appear to be operating in divisions of four." She hesitated. "Sir...one of those divisions is made up of ships approximately the same size as the Armour series. And it's the one with the smallest ships. The largest ships are...about three times the length of _Macross_."

There was a short silence. Global pulled out his pipe and jammed it between his teeth. "I think we can assume that they haven't been missing us unintentionally. They want to _take_ this ship, not destroy it."

"That gives us an advantage, doesn't it, Sir?" asked Claudia.

"Not really, Lieutenant. They can board us, and they probably have a lot more troops than we do. Plus, let's not forget who they probably are."

"The Giants," acknowledged Claudia.

"Lieutenant Hayase. If we need to repel boarders, how many combat robots can we commit?"

"We have two hundred and forty Valkyries ready for combat. Another fourteen are down for repairs. In addition, ninety-six Destroids of assorted types are available. But six of those are Monsters, of no use in a boarding action, and I have my doubts about the twelve Phalanxes."

"So if we disregard the Monster-class and Phalanx-class, we have three hundred and eighteen units available."

"No, Sir. Because we don't have enough pilots to man more than fifty Valkyries. We could use Destroid pilots - there's lots of _them_ - but that would waste most of the Valkyrie's advantages."

"It's just not enough." Global pulled a pouch of tobacco from his pocket. "PO Milliome, target the largest ship in the approaching formation."

"Aye, Sir."

"In the absence of any hard data, designate this class a battlecruiser. Lieutenant LaSalle. Bring us about for a firing solution along her longest axis."

"Aye, Sir. Maneuver time required eighty-two seconds."

"Execute."

"Aye, Sir. Beginning my burn. Twenty seconds."

The engines roared, and _Macross_ surged ahead at her maximum acceleration - which wasn't all that much, mused Misa. At twenty million tonnes, even the massive engines that drove her forward could only impart just over 8.7 meters per second every second. And she could keep it up for only an hour before draining her fuel hoppers of every last pellet of plutonium.

Twenty seconds later, the engines cut out, and Claudia reported, "Burn complete. Beginning precession."

The _Macross_ rotated to bring the bow forward to face the oncoming fleet.

"Centered and locked on Bandit One."

"Fire."

Misa twisted the firing control. Nothing happened.

"Sir! I've got no power to the main gun!"

Global's response was in Italian, and Misa was just as glad that she couldn't understand it. He smacked his comm control. "Lang! What's happened?"

"_Not certain, Captain. The main capacitor ring has shorted out somewhere. We're trying to track it down now._"

"Understood." He released the comm control, and turned to Claudia. "Lieutenant LaSalle, take us down."

"Back to South Ataria?"

"Yes. Stand by to execute a fold to the far side of the moon when we're two kilometers above the island."

Claudia sucked in her breath. "Captain, the fold system is still untested. We don't even know if it'll work."

"Get ready to test it. We don't have any other way of avoiding a boarding action."

"Sir." Claudia's voice dropped into professional mode. "I understand the order to execute a fold, and I do not agree with it."

Misa stared at her friend in disbelief. "Claudia, right, or wrong, he's the Captain."

"I understand that, Misa. But I feel it is my duty to officially object to this order."

"Your disagreement has been recorded." Global nodded.

"Aye, Sir. Beginning our descent. PO Laird, begin calculations for space fold."

"Yes, Ma'am."

* * *

"_All hands, stand by for space fold operation._"

"Ranma? What's a space fold?"

"Dunno." Ranma flipped the hot-plate on. "But you can bet it's gonna be rough. You might wanna sit down."

"Do you _have_ to change back to a guy?"

"Sorry." Ranma grinned. "I know you prefer me like this, but if I have to launch..." She picked at her flight suit. "This thing is designed to keep me conscious during flight. It has to be fitted precisely, and it's fitted to my guy side."

"Hikaru doesn't wear one of those."

"Hikaru's little plane is a firecracker, for a civilian job, but it's still a _civilian_ aircraft. It can't handle the sort of stress that a military jet takes as part of normal business." Ranma sat back down. "I can handle more stress than the jet can inflict, but I can't handle it forever. With the speed jeans, I can pull twelve gees for as long as thirty seconds, instead of eight gees for five seconds."

"I guess I always thought you could just...jump into a plane and go."

"It's not like a car," chuckled Ranma. "Heck, even a car ain't like most people treat it; ya gotta do some math to properly handle a car, too, even though most people can do it by instinct."

"So flying a plane takes brains, then." Minmay looked down at her shoes. "Guess that's why I don't fly."

"Brains, practice and talent. You need any two of those." Ranma shrugged. "You don't seem stupid, and the only way to test for talent is with a simulator. So who knows? Maybe you could fly."

"I flunked math."

"Oh. Well, that could be a problem," chuckled Ranma. The ship started to shudder, and she looked up. "Feels like we're plowin' atmosphere...we're going back to the island?"

"Then what about that space fold thingy?"

The answer came before Ranma could open her mouth. The ready room blurred around them, colours shifted wildly, and they were knocked off their feet.

* * *

"Fifteen seconds left."

Global gritted his teeth. The entire ship was vibrating badly, and damage indicators flashed red across the repeaters above his head. Through the viewport ahead, nothing could be seen except a swirl of multicoloured light.

"Ten seconds."

"Captain, the fold sphere is destabilizing."

"Is it part of the out-fold process?"

"Negative."

"Five seconds."

"Keep it up five seconds more."

"Fold sphere expanding and becoming more unstable." Claudia shook her head. "Controls not responding."

"Zero. Out-fold successful."

"Fold sphere collapsed." Claudia mopped her brow. "Held together just long enough..." She paused, and frowned at her display. "Sir, I've lost all telemetry to the fold system."

"That's all right. We made our destination. All stations, report."

"Tactical, online."

"Computers online."

"Communications online."

"Helm answers, Captain."

"Sensory coming back up." Shammy tapped a key, and frowned. "Captain, I've got a gravity reading."

"It's the moon. We folded to just beyond it."

"No, Captain. Too faint." Shammy pecked at her keys again. "Rate of acceleration zero point one zero five four nine meters per second squared. Range is..." She tapped another key. "Two thousand meters. Mass therefore two hundred and eighty megatons."

"That's just a little too small to be the moon, Captain," observed Claudia.

"I guess we missed it," added Misa.

"Lieutenant LaSalle, you mentioned that the fold sphere expanded as it destabilized," said Global. "How big did it get?"

"Twenty-five kilometers, Captain. But that happened in the last five seconds of the fold."

"PO Milliome. Visual beneath us."

"Inoperative, Sir. All the underside cameras were destroyed when we crashed."

"Oh. Makes sense." He turned back to Claudia. "Give us precession. I want to see what's below us."

"Aye, Sir."

The massive gyros spooled up again, and _Macross_ brought her bow down, towards the mass beneath them.

Misa gasped.

Global shook his head. "It's South Ataria Island. The whole thing, some ocean, the _Prometheus_ and _Daedalus_, the entire city, the shelters..." He turned to Misa. "Tell me the shelters are airtight."

"They are, Sir, but the _Prometheus_ isn't. And I don't think _Daedalus_ was at dive quarters."

"Thirteen thousand men and women. My God." He glanced over at Claudia. "Lieutenant LaSalle, I think that you were correct in your objections."

Claudia didn't speak. Couldn't.

"Captain." Shammy turned towards him again. "Velocity relative to the island is up to sixteen point three meters per second. But as we get closer--"

"Understood. Time until touchdown?"

"Oh, we've got a while. About two hours." Sammy blushed slightly, and mumbled, "Just thought you ought to know."

"Thank you, PO Milliome." Global frowned. "I don't want to smash into any shelters. Claudia, pick us out a nice landing spot."

"Aye, Sir."

"PO Kabriov. Obviously, we aren't in Trojan orbit with the moon, as we planned. Try to find out where we actually are. Co-ordinate with PO Milliome as needed."

"Aye, Sir."

"PO Milliome. Any sign of the enemy?"

"Yes, Sir. Several of their combat robots are still active in the city, but they don't seem to be doing anything. Just...wandering about."

"I don't want to risk them attacking the shelters, either. Or us. Misa, launch the Jolly Rogers and the Diamondbacks to mop up any remaining enemies."

"Aye, Sir."

* * *

"That's the last of 'em." Roy pulled up from the fireball that had been an alien battle pod. "Area is secure."

"_Hey, Guppy. You lose something?_"

"Hm?" Roy flicked on his Tac net. "Why do you ask, Jarhead?"

"_Found this floating around out here, and figured it was yours._" The MFD flickered, and a red and white civilian racing plane appeared on the screen.

"Hikaru! You fucking idiot, what are you thinking?"

"_He can't hear us, Guppy. Lemme tow him back to Macross, and I'll find out what his story is._"

"Okay. Don't take too long, though." Roy leaned back in his seat. "Our next orders are to assist with the search and rescue for the civilians."

"_Understood, Sir._" Ranma shifted to GERWALK, and started pushing the racer towards the Macross.

* * *

"He's cyanotic. Oh-two, stat."

"Will we need to intubate?"

"Naw." The senior medtech strapped a mask on the pilot. "Once he gets a bit of this, he should snap right back."

"Any chance of brain death?"

"I don't think so, Lieutenant." The medtech looked up at Ranma. "The air was pretty rancid in that cockpit, but he couldn't have been out of oxygen very long, or he'd be a lot deader."

"Okay, good." Ranma looked down at the unconscious Hikaru. "I don't care much for this asshole, but I wouldn't wish brain-death on Happousai."

"Who?"

"Never mind." Ranma watched as Hikaru convulsed, then sat up suddenly.

"What--"

"Calm down, Ichigyo. You're alive." Ranma sat down opposite the young man. "What were you thinkin', takin' that little stunt plane out into deep space?"

"I didn't." Hikaru's voice was somewhat muffled by the oxygen mask. "I was in atmosphere when I launched, then...something happened, and I found myself in space. Used my rockets to move back to the ship, but couldn't get in."

"We were at combat stations." Ranma stood up. "Okay, you weren't being a complete idiot. For a switch. But try to stay out of trouble, okay? You used up an entire lifetime's worth of luck today."

* * *

"Claudia had the guts to speak up." Misa stirred her coffee absently. "I'm starting to wonder if I've been promoted too quickly, because of my father."

"Don't you believe that, Misa." Ranma leaned forwards, and grasped the younger woman's hand. She'd shifted to her female state when she'd seen Misa's face; girl-to-girl talk was easier when both parties were girls. "There was no way you could have predicted this."

"But I _knew_ the fold system was untested. I should have expected that _something_ bad would happen."

"Misa--"

"But I blindly followed his orders, expecting him to be right because he's the Captain. But Captains make mistakes, too. They're human. And I should have spotted this one, said to him--"

"He ignored Claudia."

"Maybe if both of us had spoken up, he would have reconsidered."

Ranma sighed. "Misa, you're the ship's Tactical Officer. In your opinion, was there any way for the ship to have avoided a boarding action, aside from executing the fold?"

"No." She looked down. "Even using the secondary batteries, we couldn't have destroyed all the oncoming ships."

"And once brought to action, what was the possibility of us repelling boarders?"

"Pretty much none." She managed a smile. "Even with you on our team, we couldn't have taken them all out."

"So he made the right call with the data he had. You would have made the same call. So would I."

"Thirteen thousand people, Ranma!" Misa shook her head at the numbers. "Plus who knows how many on the island. And just to top things off, we're out near the orbit of _Pluto!_ How can you call that the right call?"

"It was the right call...because no-one expected this to happen." She squeezed Misa's hand. "You made the right call this time, and you will again. And next time, disaster won't be waiting to broadside you."

"Okay." Misa stood up, a little unsteadily. "I've got to get back to the bridge. We need to co-ordinate the rescue operation."

"And I've gotta get down to the shuttle bay."

"Can we..." Misa hesitated. "Can we hook up again, once this rescue is done? Have a coffee, a bite to eat, something like that?"

"Lookin' forward to it." She smiled, and Misa returned it hesitantly before turning and walking for the hatch. It had barely closed behind her before Ranma's smile faded.

Thirteen thousand people dead, and another sixty or seventy thousand stranded in space. Nobody's fault, except maybe the aliens', but she'd chosen the right word for it. No matter how you looked at it, there was no better word than disaster.

* * *


	11. Chapter Ten: Little Sister

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Ten: Little Sister**

**September 9th, 2009**

"Alpha Tango Zero Three is on final."

Technically speaking, the massive shuttle had been on final for a good half hour - there was no room for error in this rescue operation. Every seal had to be perfect, every personnell transfer done by the book, or people were going to die. But as per orders from Gunsight One, each shuttle was to inform the bridge twenty seconds before contact was made. Just in case there was a wave-off.

The docking collar touched the skin of the shelter, and sealed with a _clang_. Ranma, along with nine other former or current members of the UN Marine Corps, stood ready, spacesuits sealed. As the officer on point, it was Ranma's responsibility for the go/no go call. He eyed the environmental controls, and nodded.

"Okay, we got a green seal. Open her up."

The inner doors hissed open, revealing the shelter doors beyond the airlock. Two Marines pushed themselves forward, carrying an electric motor and winding mechanism that looked like a jackhammer. They jammed the tip into a socket on the left side of the shelter doors, and started the electric motor. The spindle rotated, spinning gears and cogs, and the massive shelter doors groaned open.

It took a while; the doors were large and heavy, and the electric motor on the remote winder was not. The noise of voices on the other side of the doors made it clear that the civilians were happy to see them, though, and wouldn't mind waiting a bit longer.

With no remote power, the shelter was dark. Ranma pulled six glowsticks from his thigh pocket, cracked them and shook them, and launched them one by one through the opening doors. The sickly green light played among the civilians, and everywhere he looked, he saw nothing but relief, joy and welcome.

_Man, I_ knew _there was a reason I signed up for this job._

* * *

Misa shook her head. "I'm sorry, Captain. But I can't sit on this board."

"The promotion board requires either the CO or the XO of the boat to sit in attendance." Global scowled. "I don't think I need to remind you that the fold system is _gone_. Not just damaged, or burned out, but simply _missing_. I need to get the repairs organized, try to figure out just how we're going to get this boat home." He waved a hand towards the frozen city outside. "I need to organize salvage efforts, get people resettled--"

"Technically speaking, Sir, that's the XO's job."

"Not all of it. I've got piles of work on my desk that needs attending to--"

"Sir. I recognize the amount of work you need to complete. My own workload is considerable as well. I'm not trying to avoid work; I'm trying to tell you that I can't - not won't, but _can't_ - sit on this board."

"And why not?"

"Conflict of interest." Misa sighed. "I've known Lieutenant Saotome for almost ten years, and not in a professional capacity. It would be a strict conflict of interest for me to sit his promotion board."

Global frowned, then admitted, "Okay. That's a very good point. I'm sorry, Misa." He heaved a sigh. "I'll sit this board. You get the next one, though."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

"Name?"

"Jamis Merlin."

Ranma looked up - yep, the famous television star. "Point of origin?"

"Russian Siberia." The woman paused. "Mind telling me why I've been forced to wait through all this? Surely there's no need to question who am."

"Well, yeah, there is," said Ranma.

"Don't you _know_ who I am?"

Ranma sighed. He'd had to deal with variations on this from at least six other people. "Yeah, I do. But our computer don't know you from Jane Doe, so we need ta verify that you're on board. So we need to go through the screening process."

"Forcing me to sit through all this nonsense! And the nuisance of being penned up among all the common people in that shelter--!"

Ranma blinked. "Are you for real?"

"I am _Jamis Merlin!_ Why have I been put through all this inconvenience and--"

Ranma stood up. "Miss Merlin." His expression darkened. "You mighta been some big shot back on Earth. But I gotta wakeup call for you. Right now, you're nothin' but a refugee. Which makes you no better or worse than those 'common people'. And right now, you're holdin' up the line."

"I demand to speak with the Captain!"

"Your demands mean nothin'." He tapped a key, and the computer spit a card at him. "Take this, go to deck five, and they'll tell you where you'll be sleepin' tonight." He grinned nastily. "I can tell ya it won't be on a feather bed with satin sheets."

She gaped at him, took the card, and stalked off. He sat down and rubbed his forehead.

The shelter had been designed to hold ten thousand people without too much overcrowding, twelve thousand in a pinch. However, the total projected population of South Ataria Island had been two hundred and fifty thousand, and its shelters had been built to reflect this fact. As a result, most of the shelters had been underpopulated.

_And a good thing, too,_ mused Ranma. _The shuttles couldn't lift ten thousand people. Even with twelve of them operatin', they were stretched kinda thin._

The four thousand or so people in the shelter had packed the shuttles pretty good, but there was room for them all, if only just. After docking with _Macross_, Ranma had found himself pressed into duty processing the civilians in. He looked up as the next one arrived in front of him.

"Name?"

"Hoshino Kirika."

"Point of origin?"

"Yokohama."

He typed this into his laptop. "Resident of South Ataria?"

She shook her head. "No. I was one of Tennasaono's security guards."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? My mom's an owner."

The girl grinned. "Oh! You must be Ranma!"

He grinned cockily. "The one and only."

"Is it true that you told the Boss you loved her?"

Ranma rolled his eyes; Nabiki's habit of spreading half the gossip obviously hadn't waned. "I was young, stupid, and trying to scare her."

"How did you think that was going to scare her?"

"I repeat. Young and stupid."

"Gotcha." She chuckled. "Speaking of whom. Have you heard from the Boss?"

"Saw her just before liftoff, but not since then." He paused, and tapped a query into his computer. "She's not been processed through, yet." He bit his lip. "This was the last shelter. She wasn't in your crowd?"

"No."

"Damn..." He turned, spotted Roy approaching him. "Yo, Guppy."

"Perfect. Just the Jarhead I needed to talk to." Roy leaned on his desk. "Corporal Brown showed up for duty pissed out of his skull. I don't even know where he got the booze--"

"Coulda had it in his bird before the attack."

Roy shuddered. "I don't want to even think about that possibility. No, he wasn't willing to discuss where he got it - pity, I'm all out - just said that he got it from a friend of a friend."

Ranma frowned. "Black market?"

"Might be."

"I don't like that idea," said Ranma. "You could take it up with Intel or the MPs. Why bring it to me?"

"Well, he's been tossed in the brig, and that leaves a hole in our flight schedule. You get to fill it." Roy tossed a printout on the desk. "Orders from your girlfriend. We got a deep patrol slated, just as soon as you're done here."

"Lieutenant Hayase is not my girlfriend, and I wish you'd shut up before you give _your_ girlfriend any more ideas." He scowled. "I got a problem."

"What's up?"

"My sister-in-law is missing in action. She wasn't in this load, and as far as I know, this was the last load. Is there any chance that we missed a shelter?"

Roy shook his head. "I don't think so. Reports bring us nearly to complete population."

"Shit." He turned back to his computer, tapped out another query. "Accordin' to this, we've searched sixteen shelters. Aren't there seventeen?"

"Yeah, but one was at the far end of the island. No civilians permitted there, no reason for any military personnell to be there either."

"Where is it now?"

"Floatin' off towards Venus." Roy frowned, and pulled at his chin. "Lemme borrow your terminal." He pulled the laptop towards him, tapped a few keys. "Yeah...It's got a vector that don't match our own. I don't think a shuttle could get out there."

"A Valkyrie could. We've got reaction mass for twice the delta-V of a shuttle."

"A Valkyrie could, yeah, but then what could you do?"

"We gotta make the effort. There could be civilians out there."

"Look, I understand, she's your sister, but right now, we got orders. Deep patrol." He paused. "Yeah. And come to think of it, this sector's inside the patrol area. A little further out than we're technically supposed to go..."

Ranma nodded. "Understood. Sir, I've got another problem. My starboard-side reactor was actin' a little twitchy. Might just be that it's not tuned for vacuum, but I don't think I can risk _Switchblade_ until it's looked at."

"Crap. Well, that really sucks." Roy didn't sound terribly displeased. "I guess we'll have to issue you a temporary bird. Lemme see..." He called up the Unassigned Motor Pool database. "Vee Tee One Zero Five is currently without a rider...why don't you take it?"

"With the increased mass of a Delta, I won't have as much range," pointed out Ranma with a grin. "Why don't we issue a pair of FAST pack fuel tanks?"

"Oh, yes. That would only make sense." Roy tapped a requisition into the machine. "Okay, prep time is sixteen minutes. We launch in thirty, so don't waste any time." He closed the laptop. We wanna get this done before your girl--I mean, Lieutenant Hayase--gets wind of this."

"Thanks, Roy."

* * *

"_Vee Tee One Zero Five, Gunsight One. Say state, over._"

Ranma toggled the communications button. "Vee Tee One Zero Five, seven thousand kilos reaction mass, on the go line."

"_Heavy load, One Zero Five._"

Ranma shrugged. "I can carry it, so I figured, why not?"

"_Fair enough._" Misa chuckled. "_Confirm nav data._"

Ranma pulled up his waypoints list, and transmitted them to Gunsight One. "Six points, two hour patrol."

"_Confirmed. You are clear to launch. Transferring to cat control._"

"Roger. One Zero Five, clear."

_Macross_ had no actual catapults; Ranma's fighter was merely elevated, in GERWALK form, to the launch bay. The hatches sealed, atmosphere was bled off from the lock, and the outer doors opened. His engines were already warmed up; he appled a bit of thrust from the back-mounted rockets, and slid the fighter into space.

A quick pull of the reconfiguration levers shifted his jet into Fighter Mode, and he started the reaction mass feed to the main engines. Water exploded into plasma, and the fighter surged ahead at just over half a gee of acceleration. He cut the feed when he reached fifteen meters per second, and slipped out of _Macross'_ shadow.

Now the navigation computer took over. His directional thrusters tilted the fighter to align itself just offset from the first waypoint, and then started his burn. It was programmed for a thirty-second burn at 0.4 gees, and carefully monitored his remaining mass to keep the acceleration pegged. The fighter roared away from _Macross_, its velocity vector building until it intersected the first waypoint, and then cut its engines. He relaxed as the burn ended, and pulled up his waypoint information again.

He reached into his shin pocket, and extracted a pair of wire-cutters. The nav link system was on the left-hand side of the cockpit; he popped the inspection panel, scowled down at the mess of components, then extracted a single wire and cut it. His screen flickered, the words "Link lost" appearing on the screen, then adjusted.

"Gunsight One, Vee Tee One Zero Five. My nav link is acting a bit cranky." He tucked the wire-cutters back into his pocket. "I got vector match with Waypoint One, but I'm not getting correctional data from your end."

"_One Zero Five, Gunsight One._" Misa sounded somewhat concerned. "_Can your computer handle the corrections by itself?_"

"Affirm, Gunsight. The Delta model has twice the computer power; I've handed the feed off to my rear seat." He tapped a few commands into his computer, adjusting one Waypoint.

"_All right. We won't worry about that now._" Misa paused. "_Your course is currently being tracked by Cat's Eye, but at least one leg of your patrol will be outside their coverage. I'm launching a repeater drone to match Waypoint Three, so you can stay in contact._"

"Affirm." He scowled; he didn't really want that drone following him. But there was no way he could refuse it. So he had to avoid communications between Waypoint Two and Four.

Because it was Waypoint Three he was most concerned with.

* * *

Misa leaned back. "He's having no luck with birds today."

"What do you mean?" Claudia had a cup of coffee in each hand; she set the first one - black with one sugar - on the Flight Officer's terminal.

"His personal jet developed an engine flutter, and maintenance is looking into that now. And now his temporary ride is acting up. Lost a commo link."

"That _is_ bad luck." Claudia peered at her. "You worried for him?"

"Of course!" Misa picked up her coffee cup, not quite registering what she'd just said. "Deep space is no place to have to worry about a flaky bird."

"I quite agree." Claudia sipped her double-double. "You know, Roy's bird has three hull breaches."

"So?"

"So I notice you're not overly concerned about _him_."

"I'm concerned, but Major Focker didn't seem overly worried about it."

"You're concerned, but you didn't send a commo relay chasing _him_. Just Saotome."

Misa opened her mouth to retort, and then abruptly realized that she didn't have a leg to stand on.

"I see." Claudia grinned.

"Oh, shut up!" Misa scowled.

"My boyfriend doesn't warrant using up a commo relay, but your boyfriend--"

"Ranma is _not_ my boyfriend." Misa set her coffee cup down, hard enough to slosh the contents. "We've never even dated!"

"Oh, what a crock." Claudia looked disgusted. "You two were a regular feature at the White Dragon, the theatre, the O-Club. The only two people on this rock who _weren't_ convinced you two were dating were you two."

"Claudia, he lost his _wife_."

"More than ten years ago!" She shook her head. "And I notice that you mention Akane, but not Riber. Your loss was a hell of a lot more recent, but it's _his_ loss you're worried about."

"If I want to be psychoanalyzed, I'll go see Doctor Wood," scowled Misa.

"I'm not trying to psychoanalyze you. I'm trying to get you to stop bloody lying to yourself!" Claudia poked a finger at Misa. "You two have something great going on. Hell, Roy and I don't get along as well as you two. When will you admit it?"

Misa turned back to her terminal, and picked up her coffee cup again. "It doesn't matter what I think, or what you think, or even what the Captain thinks. What matters is what _he_ thinks."

"And what does he think?"

"His wife--"

"Misa. When was the last time you talked to him about this?"

"...Well, never, really." Misa looked down at her coffee. "I didn't want to...to wreck our friendship."

Claudia shook her head. "Girl, if you don't bring it up, _he_ sure ain't gonna."

The sound of a throat clearing caused both of them to turn in surprise. Captain Global looked down at them, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance.

"Ladies. We have patrols to deal with. The soap opera can wait until off-duty hours."

"Aye, Sir," they chorused.

* * *

The sweep through Waypoint Two provided nothing more than routine data. Ranma checked the logs, then nodded and started the nav computer again. His fuel state was down to ten thousand pounds, and he jettisonned the now-empty FAST packs to reduce his mass further. The computer took this into consideration, chewed his new mass and fuel states, as well as his required times and the velocity vector of the last shelter, and selected his next burn: Over five minutes at 0.6 gees, turnover at 3.5 minutes. It would consume four thousand pounds of reaction mass, leaving him just barely enough to return to the ship and match velocity for docking.

He nodded, and pushed the commit button.

Nothing happened at first; the Valkyrie's computer adjusted for his current vector, and knew he had to drift for two more minutes. Ninety seconds later, his directional thrusters fired, rotating the Valkyrie to its new heading.

His headset crackled. "_Vee Tee One Zero Five, you should have started your burn sixty seconds ago. Is everything all right?_"

He cursed, then opened the channel. "Gunsight One, Vee Tee One Zero Five. I think my nav comp is buggered. It insists my burn starts in...fifteen seconds."

"_Override._"

He didn't even touch the computer. "It's not letting me!"

The engines roared, pushing his Valkyrie towards his next destination.

"_Vee Tee One Zero Five, your burn does not match our computations. I'm declaring a Dutchman._"

"Negative, Macross." He scowled. "Just gimme a minute to try an' figure out where it's sending me."

"_We don't have a minute!_" Misa was starting to sound frazzled. "_You're already out of sensor range, and you'll be out of commo range in thirty more seconds._"

"When the commo drone catches up with me, I'll send my new burn data." He had a flash of inspiration. "Request tanker support at Waypoint Five. I should have enough fuel to make that point."

"_Saotome, if you get yourself lost in space, I will personally--_" The comm faded to static before she could finish her threat, and Ranma sighed.

"Misa...I'm really sorry...but she's my sister."

* * *

"Dutchman!" Misa's hand held the commo link open. "Gunsight One to Skull One. Vee Tee One Zero Five has gone Dutchman!"

"_Gimme his nav link data_," ordered Roy.

"I can't! His nav link went down."

"_Okay. Cross-deck his last burn data to my ship._"

Beside her, Claudia started the data feed. Roy paused as the information was transmitted to his Valkyrie.

"_Gunsight One, regret that I cannot intercept. I lack the delta-vee._"

Claudia opened her own link to Skull One. "Roy, if you abandon your current mission, you can overtake in twelve minutes, and have enough delta-vee for the return trip."

"_I don't think so._"

Misa was more than a bit puzzled; Roy sounded like he had very little concern over the possible loss of his friend. "Skull One, I am ordering you to match velocity with Vee Tee One Zero Five, separate his cockpit--"

"_Hold on, Gunsight One. Did Lt. Saotome report the Dutchman to you?_"

"Negative. He believed that he could recover from the burn."

"_Shouldn't we trust him on that? He's been flyin' a long time._"

"Major--"

"_What about a tanker? Did he request that?_"

Misa paused. "Yes, he did."

"_So he reported that he can recover from the Dutchman, and requested tanker support. I think he knows what he's doing, Gunsight One._"

"I don't care!" Misa was starting to sound a bit unglued. "I want you to intercept him, and bring him back. Detach the nose section of his Valkyrie if needed."

"Misa..." Claudia was looking at the navigational data. "He can't do it now. He's been burning towards his next waypoint, and no longer has the delta-vee."

"_What?_" Misa glanced over at Claudia, then back to Focker. "Why did you not abort your burn?"

"_Sorry, Lieutenant._" He didn't sound it. "_Guess it slipped my mind._"

Misa ground her teeth. "Major Focker. If Lieutenant Saotome fails to recover aboard this ship, I shall be forced to call charges against you for violation of Article Fourteen, section three, of the United Nations Code of Military Justice."

There was a lengthy pause. Article Fourteen was gross insubordination, with section three carrying additional penalties for said insubordination causing the death of a fellow officer.

When Roy replied, it was in short, tight, clipped tones. "_As you feel you must do, Lieutenant._" He closed the network.

Claudia coughed softly. "Misa, I know you're worried about Ranma. But I'd just like to point out to you that you have just threatened my fiance with the death penalty."

Misa looked down at her console. She knew she'd crossed the line with her last comment.

But she couldn't apologize. Not yet.

* * *

The Valkyrie's burn brought it to relative rest next to a large chunk of rock. Ranma checked his gravity sensors, and decided that there was no way he could orbit the rock successfully. Since it was tumbling, this would pose difficulties for what he planned.

"_--nsight One to Vee Tee One Zero Five, please respond._" Claudia's voice sounded in his ears. "_Gunsight One to Vee Tee One Zero Five, please respond._"

He toggled his mike. "Gunsight One, this is Vee Tee One Zero Five. I've come to rest relative to a large chunk of the island, but I've still got some vector relative to _Macross_. Requesting navigational data."

"_Affirmative, Vee Tee One Zero Five. Give us a minute; the drone has a lock on you, but we need to cancel out the vectors._"

"Not a problem. Hey, Claudia. There's a shelter on this rock. Did anyone check it out?" Plausible deniability was a wonderful thing.

"_What's the number, One Zero Five?_"

"Looks like shelter seventeen."

There was a brief pause. "_Negative. Shelter seventeen was not found by the sweeps. Since we had almost everybody accounted for, we assumed that seventeen was deserted. It's a VIP shelter, and most of the big-wigs bugged out when the shooting started._"

"Well, I'm here now, and you got that tanker headed for Waypoint Five. Request permission to search the shelter."

"_You don't have a shuttle or a docking collar._"

"No, but I got my environmental suit."

Misa broke into the channel. "_Lieutenant Saotome, that e-suit is only rated for up to sixty seconds of vacuum. It's for emergencies, not for EVA._"

"You're forgettin' that I'm a martial artist, Lieutenant. I can probably withstand up to sixty seconds of vacuum on my own." He paused. "Okay, shelter seventeen has an airlock, and it looks like I can grab somethin' to hold my Valk next to it. Total EVA time should be less than twenty seconds. Will that pass muster?"

"_Vee Tee One Zero Five, the shelter is almost certainly deserted._"

"'Almost certainly' is not the same as 'known to be', and you know it. It's our job to protect civilians, ain't it?"

There was a pause. Ranma knew he was hitting below the belt; protecting others was the very reason that he'd joined up, and she knew it. It was a medium-large trump, and he hoped she'd let it go through, so he didn't have to spend the big ones.

"_Lieutenant Saotome, you're cleared for EVA. Make it quick, okay?_"

"You got it."

He jockeyed the Valk around and clamped onto a steel girder, then exhausted the cockpit. As the air pumped out, he started to hyperventilate, oxygenating his blood as much as possible, then sealed his suit. He popped the canopy, and pushed off towards the lock.

It took him six seconds to cycle it open, and clambered in. Six more seconds to close it, then explosively recompressed it. He popped his mask, and checked his watch.

"Eighteen seconds total."

He opened the inner hatch, and floated in. It was pitch black, so he flipped on his suit lights, and played them around the compartment. One fell on a human figure, hunched up against one wall.

She looked up.

"_Ranma!_"

She launched herself towards him in an Amazon-class glomp, aided by the zero gee.

He chuckled. "Hiya, Nabs. Didja miss me?"

"Oaf!" She punched him, and ended up floating slowly away.

"There anyone else here?"

She shook her head. "Just me."

"Okay, then let's get you out." He started to unzip his pressure suit. "You've gotta put this on, and we're gonna go out to my Valkyrie."

"Wait." She frowned. "Isn't that a space suit?"

"Yep." He pulled his arms out of the sleeves. "You mighta noticed the whole no-gravity thing."

"But if you're telling me to put this on...what are _you_ going to wear?"

He shrugged. "I got a uniform."

"I mean...if we're in space, aren't you going to need a space suit?"

"That depends on how long we linger. I don't intend to stop for pictures, do you?"

Nabiki bit her lip. "Ranma...I don't want to see you get hurt for me."

"If we don't get you outta here, you're gonna die. Mine was the only ship that could reach this shelter." He tossed her the suit. "Put it on. Don't worry about the plumbin' fixtures. You won't be needing 'em."

"Fine. Be that way." She caught the suit, and started struggling into it. "How does this go--Oh, I see."

He looked around the shelter, found a scarf floating by. "This yours?"

"Yeah."

"Can I borrow it?"

She shrugged. "I suppose. Won't match this outfit, after all."

He snagged it, started wrapping it around his face. "This'll help when we go out." He saw her zip up the suit, pushed himself towards her, and helped her fit the helmet. Then he double-checked all her seals, and nodded. "Okay, you're set. Into the airlock."

He grabbed her hand and kicked off against the wall, towards the lock. He pushed her in, and climbed in behind her, then triggered the hatch. As it closed, he started hyperventilating again.

"Scared?" He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the smirk in her voice.

"Naw. Just wanna saturate my blood with oxygen." He gave a final, deep, exhale, and triggered the lock.

The hatch opened, still pressurized, and blew them towards the waiting Valkyrie. He kept one hand on her wrist, and with the other, grabbed one of the "holy shit handles" on the dash, and pushed her towards the back seat. Then triggered the canopy, waited for it to close, and punched the cockpit pressure button.

Air burst back into the cockpit, and he gasped. His face felt sore, especially around his eyes, which had not been protected by the scarf, but his greatest worries seemed to have passed him by. He could still see, could still move his arms and legs with no pain. He hadn't been exposed to vacuum long enough to cause decompression sickness.

"You all right, Nabs?"

"You crazy bastard." Her voice was thick. "Now I know how Akane must have felt. You risked your life for me, and all I've ever done was be rotten to you."

"Someone had to do it, and I was the only one here." He chuckled. His throat felt raw. "Buckle up, we're gonna be blasting at two gees."

* * *

VT-105 touched down in the hangar bay, reconfigured to Gerwalk - that mode was still classified, but Ranma felt that Nabiki wasn't going to be telling anyone who didn't already know. He waited until the far hatch opened, then gimped the bird into the bay beyond. He knelt the fighter, popped the canopy, and hopped out.

Misa was running towards him, her eyes red and puffy. "Ranma! Thank God you're all right."

He flashed her a thumbs-up. "Never been better."

She grabbed him in a bear hug. "Don't ever do that to me again!"

"Ah, Ma'am...this is nice, and all, but there's like fifteen people watchin' ya do it."

She dropped him and stepped back, blushing furiously. "Sorry." She paused. "Wait. Why aren't you wearing your e-suit?"

He jerked a thumb back at the fighter. "One civilian in the shelter. Only way I could rescue her was to give her my e-suit."

She stared at him in disbelief. "So you went EVA in your underwear?"

"Naw. I had my uniform." He deliberately misunderstood her. "I think I need to report to the medics, though. I took some vacuum-burn in the process." He looked down at his hands; they showed small red traces of burst capillaries. And he'd been wearing gloves. If his hands looked that bad, God alone knew what his face looked like.

"All right," she laughed. "Go see the doc."

He flashed her a salute, and jogged off. Misa chuckled, and turned to the civilian. "And you are?"

The civilian removed her helmet, and Misa gasped.

"Tendo!"

Nabiki nodded. "Thank all the heavens that Ranma had that malfunction. Otherwise, I'd be dead."

* * *

"What the hell's this?"

The technician stared down at the open inspection panel. Several wires appeared to have been ripped out.

"This isn't tied into the nav comp at all; it's part of the communications array." He frowned. "And this isn't battle damage, or even maintenance failure. Looks more like sabotage."

"What's that, Sarge?"

He looked up, and hurriedly saluted. "Sorry, Ma'am. It looks like Lieutenant Saotome's fighter was sabotaged."

"Really?" She climbed up the service ladder opposite the Sergeant, and looked in. "I dunno. Looks like maintenance problems to me."

"All due respect, Ma'am, but--"

"You misunderstand me, Sergeant." She allowed the temperature of her voice to drop a few degrees. "This is a maintenance failure, and it is part of the navigational computer. Am I understood?"

The sergeant swallowed nervously. "Perfectly, Ma'am."

"And the entire navigational system was dumped, and Mister Saotome had to restore from the ROMS. Right?"

"Sure looks that way."

"Excellent." She smiled. "I'm glad we're clear on that." She stepped down, and walked off.

* * *


	12. Chapter Eleven: Compromises

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Eleven: Compromises**

**September 23, 2009**

There was a knock at the apartment door. Tendo Nabiki looked up from her tea.

"Who the heck...Kirika? Chloe? Maybe even Ranma?"

She stood up, and walked over to the door. It was equipped with a fish-eye lens, and she made use of it. The man standing on the other side was unknown to her, but he was dressed in the blue-on-black of the UN Spacy's Intelligence Directorate and had a brown manila envelope under one arm.

"Well, nothing ventured..." She unlocked the door and opened it.

"Miss Tendo?"

"That's me." She smiled coolly. "And how can I be of assistance to you?"

"You're the head of Tennasaono Security. Is this correct?"

"You should already know the answer to that, since you hired me." She narrowed her eyes. "So how can I help you?"

"I'm here to offer you a job." He held out the envelope. "We find ourselves short-staffed on the Intelligence front, and since we are facing an alien adversary, one about whom we know precious little--"

She'd already unsealed the envelope, and was examining the contents. "Full access to intelligence take, provided I sign a non-disclosure and upgrade my security clearance. Costly. Compensation seems a bit low, as well." She looked up. "This is not a job offer. It's a badly-written insult."

"Miss Tendo, your background suggests that intel analysis is--"

"My background does indeed suggest that. And for excellent reason." She tucked the document back into the envelope. "It also suggests that my time is not cheap."

"Miss, I'm just the messenger." He looked a bit nervous. "I'm not empowered to--"

"Easily fixed." She allowed a bit of ice to creep into her voice. "And do not call me 'Miss'. 'Tendo' will suffice."

"As you wish, Tendo."

"Right, then. Let's go talk to your boss."

* * *

"Shoppin' ain't fun."

Misa put on her best pout. "Please, Ranma? I'll make it up to you somehow."

Ranma shook his head. "No way. Look, Misa, I know I agreed to spend some time with you - now that I actually have some furlough - but I figured it'd be somethin' we both enjoy. And you _know_ I hate shoppin'."

Misa sighed. "Okay, Ranma. Tell you what. We can compromise on this, right?"

Ranma paused. "I dunno. Never heard of any compromise that made both people feel all right about doin' it."

"Well, hear me out on this one, then I'll abide by your choice, whatever it might be." She paused. "Whether or not you like shopping, _I_ do, and there are some things that I just _need_ to pick up. And there must be a few things that you're getting low on as well."

"Maybe," he allowed guardedly.

"So shopping doesn't need to take very long. After that, we can go do something you like."

"Like what?" He tilted his head. "I know you ain't gonna be willin' ta spar, even though you could probably use the exercise--"

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

He raised his hands. "No!"

"Or out of shape?"

"It ain't nothin' like that." He scowled. "But ya could use more exercise. You're barely tappin' the potential of what your body could do. You could be a good martial artist, possibly even a great one."

Misa chuckled. "Okay, I'll grant you that. But even were I willing to spar, you'd not get any enjoyment out of it. Because right now, I'm _no_ kind of martial artist."

"You've gone through Basic. So you have some trainin' in Tae Kwan Do."

"Oh, a whole week." She smirked. "I couldn't possibly put up with your idea of 'fun.' You'd break me too easily."

"You're sellin' yourself short, Misa," said Ranma. "Sure, you aren't as well trained as your average Marine, but you ain't helpless. And I could train you up."

Misa paused, then nodded. "Okay, I'll take you up on that."

Ranma blinked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, sure." Misa chuckled. "You're a martial arts master, but you've got no students."

"I ain't licensed to teach the Family Art," said Ranma. "Or any Art, really."

"I can have the Captain draft you up a license," said Misa. "At the very least, you could teach Tae Kwan Do."

Ranma considered this slowly. "Well. Trainin' to be a _sensei_ was what I did for the first eighteen years...why not?" He pointed a finger at her. "And you get to be my first student. Fair deal?"

"Ah...Sure." She was suddenly uncertain that this was a wise plan.

"But that won't be today. I need to consider a course of study."

"Okay. So aside from martial arts, what else do you enjoy?"

He opened his mouth, and paused. "Ya know, I don't really got any idea."

"Sports?"

He shook his head. "Borin'."

"Music?"

"I like music," he admitted. "But I can't sing in my guy form, and I don't like singin' in my girl form. And just sittin' around listenin' to records is somethin' we can do any time."

"Food?"

He snorted. "Love it. Love cookin' it, love eatin' it. But my poor excuse for a father never instilled much in the way of table manners in me, and I generally get asked never to come back to restaurants because of it."

"Work with me here, Saotome!" Misa threw up her hands. "There's no movie theatre here yet, no mini golf course--hell, the only entertainment on this boat to date is the White Dragon and the gym."

"Why is that?" he mused.

"Because survival comes first."

"But those people down in the hold are now pretty much officially survived," he rebutted. "They got their needs taken care of now, so they'd naturally try to get some entertainment goin' next."

"There's also the rebuilding," pointed out Misa. "We had the town three-quarters of the way built, and then it got wrecked again."

The unplanned hyperspace fold had wreaked havoc on the ship's systems. The fold device itself had simply vanished; not even Dr. Lang had any theories, or even wild-ass guesses, as to where it went, or why. But worse, when it left, it took a section of power conduit with it. The conduit in question had carried power to the main gun.

They'd had some spare conduit aboard, but not enough to replace the missing section. And the factories on the ship were good, but could not apparently produce this type of conduit. He wasn't sure if it was a size issue, as the conduits were big, or some quality they had that the factories couldn't make them, but it didn't matter in the final analysis. They needed them, and they couldn't make them.

Dr. Lang had come up with an alternate solution. The ship was composed of nine segments, linked together. Lang theorized that the ship was a modular design, allowing the designers to select required segments, bolt them together and then call the result a ship. But those components could be moved, rearranging the entire ship and bringing the main gun closer to the powerplant. Thus avoiding the need for the conduit.

The reconfiguration of the ship had its drawbacks, though. Certain areas were briefly exposed to vacuum, making them unhealthy to be in. And the cargo hold spanned three separate segments. This had not been taken into consideration when the city had been rebuilt in the hold. The modular transformation also robbed the ship's main thrusters of power; the ship had to return to its original configuration before it could accelerate.

So Global had rejected the idea, sent Lang back to the drawing board. But as luck would have it - the sort of luck this ship seemed to enjoy - the Zentraedi had finally caught up with them. An enemy cruiser had attacked, and Global had had no choice but to order the modular transformation.

The city had been laid waste.

They were rebuilding it again; the people of Macross City were starting to develop a bit of a fatalistic attitude. This time, it was being built with the transformation aforethought.

"Ranma?"

He shook his head, realizing that he'd been woolgathering. "Sorry, Misa. Look, the people down there are gettin' grumpy, right?"

She nodded. "That is, at best, an understatement."

"What's the Captain doin' about it?"

"The Captain?" Misa laughed. "He's got his hands full trying to deal with the enemy. Keeping the civvies happy isn't in his job description."

"Then whose is it?"

"Uhhh..." Misa paused. "Come to think of it, I don't know. I imagine it'd be the mayor."

"Like it or not, Misa, we've got these guys on our ship, and we need to be certain of their TO&E." Ranma paused. "Aside from shoppin', what do you enjoy doin'?"

She smiled slightly. "Swimming - you remember that, of course."

"I remember it went hand in hand with that shoppin' crap."

"Picnics, reading, movies...all either not really possible on this ship, or something that, as you said, we can do any time." She made a face. "Neither of us seem to be experts on fun."

"Not that, really. It's that we're both innerverts, or whatever ya call 'em."

She laughed. "Introverts."

"Yeah. Pair of 'em. What we find fun ain't somethin' that others would agree with. And usually don't involve more than one other person."

"We're both supposed to be off duty, too." Misa grimaced again. "And here we are, discussing things that would be considered work."

* * *

"Completely unreasonable." She looked down at the document again, then back up at Maistrov. "I'd expect better from the _Macross'_ G2 department head."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, Tendo." He leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile playing across his features. "Why don't you make me a counter-proposal?"

"Certainly. Pay on par with a Commander of UN Spacy. You cover the costs of my security clearance upgrade. Access to sources, in addition to take. And you hire Kirika, Chloe and Yasmina in addition to myself, with pay equal to a Lieutenant of UN Spacy." She crossed her arms. "Certainly, that's not unreasonable, considering both my skills and the level of work you'll have me doing."

"Your credentials could possibly swing your demands for yourself. Why the other three girls?"

"In addition to security and protective detail, Tennasaono also does intel gathering and analysis. Never selling it, since that would compromise our reputation for reliability." She smiled tightly. "But we do like to know about our employers, so that we may, if needed...terminate the contract. Kirika is my best intel analysis girl, and both Chloe and Yasmina have done some of that work, as well as intel gathering."

"All right, that makes sense." Maistrov scowled, but Nabiki could see through that.

_He's not unhappy about the conditions at all...what's his angle?_

"Unfortunately, there's no way we can cover all of that." Maistrov stood up, walked over to his office window. "There's just no money in the budget. In addition to your team, we need to recruit some officers, probably from the Valkyrie squadrons."

_Ah, that's his angle. Well, we'll play along for now..._

"Why do you need officers, in addition to us?"

"It's a matter of reliability and accountability," he said. "Much of the data you'll be viewing would be highly classified, especially if you want us to reveal sources in addition to take. Therefore, we'd need sworn officers to act as watchdogs."

"And can't said officers do the intel analysis as well?"

"In an ideal world, said officers would indeed do that work. Unfortunately, we've got no-one available with the background to do the work." He looked down. "Intel analysis is as much an art as a science, and we don't have the artists in our available pool of talent. That's why we need you, Tendo."

_Can I work this to my advantage? Or would simply jumping in work well enough for us?_

"All right, Maistrov. I think I have a compromise for you. Of course, I'll need to talk to my girls before anything's signed in blood."

He turned back to her. "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

In the end, they'd decided on dinner. After, of course, the shopping.

"Razor blades, pit stick, toothpaste, and the only shampoo to be found with no fragrance." Misa chuckled. "How the hell did I ever mistake you for a female?"

"We were shoppin' for swimsuits," Ranma chuckled. "Can't really wear a guy's suit when I go swimmin'."

"Why?" She had a hint of mischief in her eye. "Afraid that the other guys will complain?"

"More like I'm afraid they _won't_."

"Hey, Lieutenant!"

They turned, to see Kim, Shammy and Vanessa approaching. Ranma rolled his eyes.

"Great." He glanced at Misa. "They know about my...little condition?"

Misa shook her head. "I don't think so, no. Not unless Claudia told them."

"Lieutenant Hayase." Kim was grinning. "We just came across a sale at..." She trailed off, glanced pointedly at Ranma, and said, "Well, that little store two blocks down that you mentioned. You said you needed some...things from there, and--"

Misa blushed slightly. "Yes. Thank you ever so much for mentioning that just now."

Shammy leered at Ranma. "So this is the guy you're dating?"

"We're not dating!" Both Lieutenants had their hands up. Misa continued. "It's just a nasty rumour being circulated by Lieutenant LaSalle."

"Sure."

"Misa and I are old friends," said Ranma. "We've never dated, don't intend to start. Got it?"

"Protests just a bit too much, doesn't he?" Vanessa giggled.

"Anyway, Misa, they're on sale, and I think Lieutenant Saotome won't want to be there for it. Sorry for asking, Lieutenant--" Kim didn't look very sorry. "--But could we borrow her for about twenty minutes?"

Ranma made a show of examining his watch. "Starting...now. Okay."

"Sorry, Ranma. Be back as soon as I can." She dumped her armload of toiletries and foodstuffs into his arms, and tucked a banknote between two of his fingers. "Be a doll and ring those out for me?"

"Yeah, go ahead." He chuckled. "I'll be across the road from that shop they don't wanna mention in about fifteen minutes."

Misa blushed a bit darker. "You..."

"Not stupid." He grinned. "Go on. I'll catch up."

* * *

Ranma leaned back against a store-front - not against the glass, his luck was rotten and it would probably break on him. He checked his watch. They'd said twenty minutes, and while they were off-duty, they were still military, so they had about five minutes left. Mentally, he made it six, since one of the three would make a crack about Misa getting back to her "boyfriend", and Misa would then spend some time denying.

_Honestly, would it be such a bad thing?_ he mused. _I mean, Misa's pretty, she's nice, we've spent some good quality time together. Ten years is a long damn time..._

But as long as they'd known each other, she'd never made any hint of having any romantic feelings for him. And he was far from certain about his own feelings for her.

_She's nice, I'm attracted to her, I like spending time with her...but there ain't that spark, like I felt with Akane. Maybe it's because I'm older now. Like I said, ten years is a long damn time._

He'd made the mistake, with Akane, of not being her friend first. They'd gotten past that, managed to work things out, though he wished like hell that they'd worked it out a lot earlier. Misa was already his friend.

_I ain't gonna chase her. I'm still too uncertain about how I feel. But if she decides she wants more, if she tells me she's interested in goin' further, I'll...keep an open mind._

* * *

"So seriously, Misa. Why _aren't_ you and Lieutenant Saotome dating?" asked Kim.

"Yeah," added Vanessa. "I can't imagine any girl letting a gorgeous hunk like that get away from her."

Misa scowled at them. "That would be a perfect example of not your business."

Shammy turned towards the other three, and said, "Misa, we all three know that your personal life is none of our business. But we like to think we're you're friends."

"I like to think that, too." Misa's scowl faded to a smile.

"And it's obvious to anyone who's watched you two that you and Lieutenant Saotome do have feelings towards each other," continued Shammy. "We just want you to be happy."

"But he--" She bit down on the argument she'd used for so long. "I don't think that he wants anything more than a friend. He's not had very many friends, and most of them he doesn't get to see." She looked down. "Edgar is off somewhere on Earth. So is Ryouga...and I'm not certain that he considers Ryouga a proper friend. Aside from me, the only two other friends he has are Roy and Claudia...and they're sort of a matched set."

"Really?" Kim looked saddened. "But he's such a nice guy. Why doesn't he have more friends?"

"He's a very private person," she said. "Most people are somewhat intimidated by his manner, and if he doesn't trust you completely, he won't open up to you. You have to make the effort, but it's worth it." She smiled softly. "He is a very good friend, loyal to a fault. And once he decides that he _can_ trust you, he's willing to put up with an awful lot."

"So how do you _really_ feel about him?" asked Shammy.

"I...I don't really know," she admitted. "I like him a lot...I trust him...but I don't know how he feels. And he's said so often that he just wants to be friends--"

"So do you," chuckled Vanessa. "And it's become a knee-jerk reaction to spit that out."

"If he gives you any kind of opening, Misa, I think you should take it." Shammy smiled at her. "Even if you two decide it's not going to work, I think you're good enough friends not to let it interfere with that."

"Maybe," she allowed. "I suppose that..._if_ he wants to take it further, which I think unlikely, then I'll consider it. You're probably right, Shammy. Even if it's an unqualified disaster, we should be able to see it coming, and stay friends."

* * *

He checked his watch again. _Man, they must be havin' a real chin-wag. Doesn't bode well for me._

The familiar splash, the familiar shift, and she winced. _Smells like Coke this time._

"Hi, Ranma!"

"Hi, Minmay." She sighed. "Listen, don't use pop, okay? It takes forever to wash the smell outta my hair."

"Sorry." She giggled. "Why you just standing here?"

"I'm waiting for Misa. She's in the woman's clothing store across the way there, and I didn't feel like gettin' my head bashed in."

"You could go in now."

She shook her head. "I'm still a guy, and I'd feel uncomfortable as hell goin' in there."

"You don't look like a guy."

She sighed. The girl was such an airhead at times. "So did you come all the way out here just ta pester me?"

"Hikaru's picking up some manga, and I got bored watching him go through every box in there." She pouted. "We're supposed to be doing something _I_ like, since he just got his sign-up bonus--"

"Whoa." She held up a hand. "Sign-up? You mean he's joined the UN Spacy?"

"Yes." She giggled again. "He finally got over his hatred of all things military, probably because he got to see what the military's for."

"And what would that be? In your opinion?"

"To protect people, of course," she said. "The purpose of the military is to defend the body of civilians who, in exchange, provide the money needed to support said military. The soldier chooses to do so out of a feeling of civic duty towards the body that he defends."

"Someone's been readin' Heinlein." Inwardly, she was surprised; Minmay was a typical teenager, meaning flighty, bubble-headed and unable to see past her own desires and attitudes. That she should show even that much depth of character was surprising to him. Even if she was just repeating the words of a long-dead science-fiction writer.

"I'm not stupid, you know," she pouted.

Ranma chuckled. "Never said you were. You're just young, and I'm surprised that someone your age has enough focus to read _Starship Troopers_, and get anything out of it. I was even worse at your age, mind you, so don't think I'm being critical of you."

"Okay." She looked up the street. "And here he comes...I think I need a new dress. What do you think?"

She grinned. "Buy somethin' that shows off your legs."

"Okay. I'm gonna get even with Hikaru, and drag him into that store that you're afraid of."

Ranma bristled. "I ain't afraid. I just got too much respect for women to go in there."

She laughed. "See you later, then."

Ranma watched her run off, and chuckled. But her thoughts turned serious again.

_I signed up for revenge. For justice. But I got that, and I'm still here._

_Starship Troopers_ was required reading for the UN Spacy. She'd struggled through the English version, to improve his Basic, but it was written in an older dialect of American. She thought, though, that she'd understood Heinlein's message. And knew why she still served.

_Becomin' a citizen requires a change of attitude. UN Spacy doesn't require service to get the vote, but I think Heinlein was right...you don't deserve to call yourself a citizen unless you do somethin' to help the country. Or in my case, the world._

There was a scream from the boutique. Her head jerked up, and she saw Hikaru emerging from it, stumbling and running. She scowled, took two quick steps forward, and collared him.

"Hold on, there, flyboy."

He looked down at her. "Uh...Lieutenant. Sorry, I gotta run--"

"I bet." She dragged him towards the store. "But you ain't gettin' to."

_Well, here's a first...I'm headin'_ towards _a crowd of angry women. Willingly._

Misa was in the forefront of the crowd, looking like an angry Valkyrie - either the mythological kind, or the metal kind, it didn't matter. "Good, you caught him. Can we beat him up now?"

Ranma paused. "Ya know, Misa, I'm really tempted to toss him to the wolves. But this sorta crap happened to me a lot when I was his age, and I'd like to get the rest of the story first."

"He was looking up our skirts," said Kim angrily.

"And crawling around the floor in the lingerie department," added Vanessa.

"Anythin' to say in your defense, Corporal Ichigyo?" Ranma scowled up at Hikaru. "Or should I just let 'em wreak some righteous vengeance on ya?"

"I dropped my bags," he said. "And some of Minmay's stuff rolled under a table. I didn't even know what was on the table. I was just trying to get Minmay's stuff back."

"So why did you try looking up my skirt?" asked Misa angrily.

"I wasn't trying to," he protested. "But when you're crawling around trying to grab stuff, and someone damn near steps on your hand, of course you're gonna look up, right?"

Shammy had ducked back into the store; she now emerged, a bag of goods in hand. "Misa, I think he's telling the truth." She held out the bag. "Here's his stuff, and it was under the lingerie table."

"All right," allowed Misa. "Ichigyo, you get to live another day. But if I ever catch you in that store again, you're gonna wish that I'd just killed you now."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Ranma released him, and said, "I'd make yourself scarce, kid."

He nodded, grabbed his bag, and ran off.

Misa turned to the smaller woman. "I can't believe you stood up for him, Ranma."

She shrugged, and said, "Like I said, I've been in that particular situation before. It sucks, when no-one stops to hear you out and just charges in with a mallet. No matter how bad it looks, ya gotta give him a chance to explain his actions. If ya don't buy it, then you can pound him."

"I suppose you're right." Misa sighed. "All right. Shall we go and get something to eat?"

"Sure."

Kim, Shammy and Vanessa watched them walk off, then turned to look at one another. It was Vanessa that broke the silence.

"Did she call her...Ranma?"

"Name tag said Saotome," observed Shammy.

"But...that was certainly not a hunky guy." Kim frowned. "What the heck...?"

* * *

"I still wish you'd just let me pound him," grumbled Misa.

"Hey, for once, the kid wasn't bein' stupid," said Ranma. "Not bein' too swift either, but--"

"I suppose." She scowled down at her plate. "But I've already got other beefs with him. He violated restricted airspace on Launch Day. And he openly questioned my fitness to command, due to my gender."

"Whoa." Ranma looked up. "Really?"

"Yes. Said that, and I quote, he couldn't believe Roy would take orders from a woman."

"Now _I_ wish I'd just let you pound him," chuckled Ranma. "But asshole or not, the kid's a gifted pilot. I think we'll be glad he's signed up."

"Perhaps," allowed Misa. "But we've still got a lot of rough edges to file off."

"Give him time." Ranma waved a hand. "You shoulda seen me when I first signed up. Almost got myself kicked out."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "My drill sergeant read me the riot act, after I lipped him off. Wonder how Sarge is doin'?"

"You came up through the JSDF, right?" Misa asked. "Many of our personnell were recruited straight out of there. Perhaps he's aboard."

"Naw. I checked, a few weeks ago. Before Launch Day." Ranma leaned back. "He's probably a warrant officer now, doin' administrative crap at the same boot camp. He just sorta...belonged there. Ya know? A real expert in turnin' untrained monkeys into fighting men."

"You seem to be doing him proud," observed Misa. "Ten years in, mustang officer, fighter pilot, and you're up for promotion review next week."

"I am?"

"Oh, hell. Forget I said that." Misa looked angry at herself. "You're not supposed to know that yet."

"Okay, I'll act surprised," he chuckled. "Actually, I heard from Roy that they were considering a board on me."

"I don't know how far along it is yet," she admitted. "I had to bow out, because of conflict of interest." She toyed with an egg roll. "But I expect that they'll be collaring you just as soon as your furlough is over."

"So noted." He looked up, and his face registered shock. "Nabiki?"

"That's Commander Tendo to you, Lieutenant."

Misa looked up as well, to see Tendo Nabiki, in the blue-on-black uniform of the Intelligence Division. She stood up, and snapped off a crisp salute.

Nabiki returned it, somewhat sloppily. "Good to see you again, Misa."

"Same here, Ma'am."

"Oh, calm down, the pair of you." She chuckled, removed her cap, and sat at the table. "Is this a private party, or can I join in?"

"Of course, you're welcome to join," said Misa. "After all, you outrank the pair of us taken together."

"Yeah, how did ya swing that, Nabs?"

"Don't call me that. As to the rank, I was lucky; they had an opening for a Commander."

Misa nodded. "Intel doesn't seem to work under the same rules as the rest of the outfit."

"So your rank is kinda bogus?"

"In a way," she admitted. "But there's no-one in the Intel department with a rank less than Lieutenant - and only three with that rank. My girls." She flagged down the waitress. "Coffee, black, please. But the rank is real in many ways," she continued. "I can pull rank within the Intel division, I get the pay of a Commander, and I get some of the perks of the rank as well."

Ranma snickered. "They tell ya that ya still gotta go through Basic?"

"Oh, shit."

* * *

**September 30th, 2009**

Ranma stood rigidly at attention before the five officers. Captain Global was president of the promotion board, and Warrant Vasiliy Rossikov, the lowest-ranking officer of the Jolly Rogers, was also present.

UN Spacy required three officers to sit a promotion board for any rank of Flight Lieutenant or higher, and requested and preferred five. For a Commander or higher, five were required. Since Ranma was bucking for Squadron Lieutenant, three were permitted, but since five were available, that was what he faced.

"That concludes our coverage of the Battle of the Misfold." Maistrov closed his dossier. "Captain Global, your selection?"

Global's rank was V-8, which made him a Colonel. But as the ship's master, he was the only officer aboard permitted to carry the title of Captain. He opened his folder, and cleared his throat.

"I have chosen the recon patrol of September ninth."

Ranma froze.

"According to communications logs, Lieutenant Saotome suffered a navigational failure which caused his Valkyrie to execute an unscheduled burn. Once he regained control of the Valkyrie and recovered from the burn, he found himself in the neighbourhood of Shelter Seventeen, which was beyond the reach of our recovery shuttles." He paused, turned the page. "He dismounted his Valkyrie and conducted a leg reconnaissance of the shelter, discovering one civilian survivor and recovering her from the shelter at great personal risk."

Maistrov nodded. "Tendo Nabiki. She works for us now."

"I do have two questions concerning this mission. First, Lieutenant, why did you willingly expose yourself to vacuum?"

"Sir. I felt that, due to my intense physical training, I could survive the exposure, provided it was brief. But the civilian did not have that physical training, and would have, at the very least, suffered extreme decompression sickness."

Global nodded. "Fair enough. And the second question: Who do you think you're kidding?"

"Sir?" Ranma knew exactly what Global meant, but decided that playing dumb was a better choice. At least, until he had a little more room to maneuver.

"An unplanned, unscheduled burn that _just happened_ to put you in the near vicinity of a shelter. One that our shuttles could not reach. Your courage is commendable, Lieutenant, but why did you not simply request permission to undertake the mission?"

"Sir, I felt that permission to undertake the mission would not be forthcoming. So rather than put myself in a position where I felt I had to violate an order, I chose instead to engineer conditions so that I would be in a position to perform the recon without orders."

"And the fact that your sister-in-law was aboard that shelter was in no way part of your decision?"

He'd anticipated that this question might come up. "At the time, Sir, I had no information that she was aboard the shelter. I knew only that she was missing, did not leave the island, and that one shelter had not been searched. Other people were missing as well; the possibility that _someone_ would be in that shelter was high."

"If it had not been your sister-in-law, would you still have exposed yourself to vacuum to save the person in question?"

An easy question. "Yes, Sir."

"Why?"

"Because savin' people is our job, Sir. Protectin' them, really, but savin' 'em is right up there in my book."

"And what if there had been more people in that shelter. Even two would have made it impossible to save both, yes?" He cocked his head. "What then?"

"I woulda found a way. Set up a shuttle relay, maybe. Once they were found, someone woulda made it possible."

"Suppose it wasn't." Global leaned forward. "Suppose you found Tendo, and a stranger to you. Who would you have saved?"

"I suppose...I woulda tried for both. Maybe a second flight--"

"Assume it isn't possible. One only. Which one?"

He'd dreaded that question. But there was only one answer.

"Tendo, Sir."

"Why?"

"Because she's my sister."

There was a pause, and Global closed the file. "No further questions. Lieutenant Saotome, please step outside. I'm sure you are aware of this, but regulations require me to remind you that the decision to promote must be unanimous among the board members."

_Well, Flight Lieutenant ain't such a bad rank,_ he mused. He saluted the board, turned and marched through the hatch.

* * *

He had been waiting for perhaps five minutes when the hatch opened, and Rossikov stepped through.

"Lieutenant Saotome, the board requests your presence."

_Here we go._ He donned his cap, followed Rossikov into the compartment. He stopped at the ready line, waited for Rossikov to rejoin the other board members, then saluted the board.

Captain Global returned the salute, and the board members took their seats. Global cleared his throat.

"It is the decision of this board that Flight Lieutenant Saotome Ranma, having been judged worthy by a board composed of his fellow officers--"

_YES!_

"--shall be elevated to the rank of Squadron Lieutenant. This promotion shall be made immediate, with all responsibilities and priveledges attending thereto. Lieutenant Saotome, do you accept this board's findings?"

"Yes, Sir." _Like you need to ask!_

"The duty officer shall so note and make distribution to all relevant parties. I shall officially note the promotion in the ship's logs." He paused. "Squadron Lieutenant Saotome, I request and require that you report to Captain's Mast at thirteen hundred tomorrow, to discuss the events of September ninth."

_Crap._

* * *


	13. Chapter Twelve: Crimson and Closure

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Twelve: Crimson and Closure**

**February 3rd, 2010**

_Science and Technology Report_

_Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_The GU-11 Gun Pod_

_While this weapon system may be familar to many of the recipients of this report, there are those in other divisions who lack the training and experience, and those in the divisions who use the weapon system who require training on it. It is for those people that this report is primarily intended._

_The GU-11 weapon system was designed with variable fighters in mind. However, it is easily adaptable to use by any humanoid fighting robot with manipulator hands, and is already being used by the MBR-07 Spartan Destroid. It is a variable-configuration weapon. In its storage mode, it has the same profile as any standard gun pod, such as the GA-33. As such, it can be used by any aircraft with the proper hard points and software modification. At this time, only the LVT-8A Adventurer II has the hardware and software required to carry the weapon._

_Its secondary configuration is as a hand-held rifle. The case telescopes slightly, allowing the pistol grip to swing into place and expose the trigger mechanism. The trigger is used in this configuration to avoid the need for hard cabling to employ the weapon. If detached from the underside of a variable fighter, it cannot again be fired while reconnected, unless the control cables are also reconnected. This is possible, but somewhat time-consuming, using the Valkyrie's waldo arms._

_The cannon itself is a 55mm BOFORS three-barrel minigun with active air cooling. It is capable of sustaining a rate of fire of four thousand rounds per minute for fifteen seconds, or six thousand rounds per minute for five seconds, before overheating. The gun is preconfigured to fire twenty-round bursts in low-speed mode, or fifty-round bursts in high-speed mode. While in rifle mode, the weapon locks to low-speed mode. Standard internal payload is two hundred rounds, in a reloadable clip. The Valkyrie carries two additional clips in its legs. An eight-hundred round clip is available, but the weapon cannot be reconfigured when using it, nor can the Valkyrie carry this clip._

_The rounds fired are armour-piercing fin-stabilized discarding sabot depleted uranium (APFSDSDU). Muzzle velocity is one thousand three hundred feet per second. Penetration for a single round fired at two hundred yards is sixty centimeters equivelant of steel armour. Maximum effective range for the weapon is five hundred yards, with a ten percent variance; beyond this distance, penetration drops to an unacceptable level._

_Against the enemy forces, the weapon has to date proven uniformly effective. The alien robots do not appear to be heavily armoured, and the 55mm shell has little difficulty penetrating their armour._

* * *

The knock at the door pulled Roy away from his paperwork. "Come."

The hatch opened, and Squadron Lieutenant Saotome stepped in. "Reporting as ordered, Guppy."

"Ah, Jarhead. Please, take a seat, and feel free to help yourself to a cup of tea."

"Thank you, Sir." Ranma sat down. "How can I help you today, Commander?"

"I've just completed reading your fitness report on Sergeant Ichigyo." Roy pulled it towards himself. "Your conclusions appear contradictory, and I'd like to discuss them with you."

"Well, Sir, I'd just like to ask before we do so how much of your interest in this report stems from your personal history with Corporal Ichigyo."

"Artfully said. For a Jarhead." Roy grinned. "Let's see here...'brash', 'hot-headed', 'attitude problem.' Also, 'talented pilot', 'thinks outside the box.' Sound familiar?"

"It should," said Ranma. "I wrote it."

"Pretty good description of you, as well. Wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, Sir." Ranma shrugged. "Overall, he's got the makings of a good fighter jock, possibly officer material - excuse me, worthy of V-4 rank or higher."

"You also had some harsh things to say about the accelerated training program."

"The Valk's complex, Sir. You and I should know that better than anyone else."

Roy nodded. "True. And that's why the ATP doesn't accept anyone unless they're already pilots. But that's going to change."

"Great."

"Look, Jarhead. We got two hundred and fifty-odd planes on this tub. We have a hundred or so pilots to drive 'em. A lost plane is a lost pilot, as well." Roy paused, took a sip of his drink. "So we need pilots more than we need planes."

"Sure, but you can't turn a civilian into a fighter jock in only two weeks."

"That's why they're extending it out to three."

Ranma snorted. "Oh, that'll make a difference."

"Watch the sarcasm. Someone might get hurt." Roy grinned. "CAG wants to form up four more squadrons. That'll put another seventy-two planes in the mix. We need drivers for them. And we need experienced officers to command those new squadrons."

Misa was currently wearing the CAG hat, in addition to several others. Ranma frowned. "You know, of course, that Misa's gonna object to Ichigyo gettin' anything more than a spankin' from us."

"Yes, I do know that." Roy paused. "Which is why I want you to ask her to sit his board for promotion to Flight Lieutenant. I can't - conflict of interest - and you can't."

"Why can't I?"

"Because you're going to be outside his chain of command by the time his board comes up."

Ranma paused. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Jackson has been pulled by the Skipper for some administrative detail. That leaves an opening for a flight leader. You're it."

"Oh. All right." Ranma chuckled. "This outfit is startin' ta get top-heavy with command officers as it is."

"Well, it won't be for long. The Skull is losing a total of twelve pilots to new squadrons. Most of 'em will be command officers, V-4 or higher. We'll be getting replacements from ATC. You'll be getting five fresh new faces to teach."

"Joy." Actually, he wasn't as dismayed by the prospect as he made out. It said a lot about Roy's opinion of him that he was being put in command of what was, for all intents and purposes, a cadre Flight.

Mind, with his rank, he should be a Squadron XO, or possibly even a Squadron CO. But Kramer had been with Roy for years, and would remain the Skull's XO for the forseeable future.

* * *

"Mars...I can't believe it." Claudia stared down at the planet, its gentle curve sweeping just over the bow of the _Macross_. "And it only took us four months."

"A very hard four months," added Misa. "What with the enemy attacking us five times between there and here."

"Well, so much for the good news," said Vanessa. "Bad news is that Mars is in opposition with Earth right now. So we've got to cross a distance roughly the same, or hang around here for another six months and wait for Earth to catch up."

"Actually, the news isn't even that good." Claudia shook her head. "When Earth does catch up, its velocity relative to ours will be very high. Hohmann transfer orbit looks most likely, but we're looking at almost a year of travel for that. The other choice is a slingshot around the sun, which will be nine months, plus the chance of falling into the sun."

"I vote for the Hohmann orbit," piped up Shammy.

"Seconded," added Kim.

Global cleared his throat. "Unfortunately for the honourable members of Parliament, a warship is not a democracy. As sole autocrat and dictator, I hereby order you to stifle the voting."

"So noted, O Fearless Leader." Claudia chuckled.

"Sir? I'm picking up communications frequency." Kim frowned. "Looks like a standard data transfer request."

"From where?"

"Mars Base Salla."

Claudia winced.

Misa turned, a look of shock on her face. "That's impossible," she retorted. "There were no survivors of the Mars Base attack, and the area's still radioactive."

"It couldn't be so hot as to threaten a person in a suit," said Shammy. "And if there's any survivors down there--"

"If there were, they'd have tried to make contact before now," pointed out Kim. "Besides, would they have spent the last two years in an e-suit?"

"There was a bomb shelter on Mars Base," said Misa. Her tone turned speculative. "Perhaps, if someone was in there for whatever reason, when the bomb went off...they could have survived."

"And then just waited for the area to cool down enough to travel by e-suit," added Claudia. "It's possible...but whoever it was would be as crazy as a football bat by the time they got out."

"Some people thrive on solitude," countered Misa. "Either way...Aside from the possibility of survivors, there's also the issue of supplies."

Global joined in the discussion for the first time. "Yes, we are getting low on certain items."

"Like pineapple, for instance," said Claudia.

"Actually, there's a severe shortage of several luxury items," added Misa. "Unaccountable gaps in inventory. I'm a bit concerned about that. But we're also showing some shortages in several basic supplies."

Global nodded. "And Mars Base was well stocked, since supply ships could only stop by once a year."

"Sir, I'd like to suggest that we investigate," said Misa. "If there are survivors, we owe them that. If not, we could still use the chow."

Global considered, then shook his head sadly. "No, I'm afraid that it's not tactically advisable. If the enemy attacks while we are grounded, we will be in a very bad position. Plus, we still don't know if the antigravity servos will work, even against Mars' low gravity."

"The Valkyries can screen us against air attacks, and we can deploy Destroids against the possibility of ground attack."

"But we cannot fire the main gun if we're grounded, and Valkyries cannot hold off an enemy cruiser."

"We still have the rail guns and the secondary batteries."

Global rubbed his chin, then turned to Claudia. "How's our damage situation?"

"We're running smoothly at this time, but ChEng has requested some downtime to make repairs to the thrusters." Claudia tapped her screen. "In addition, he wants to try some refinements to the pinpoint barrier system, to improve on Misa's little trick."

It had been an act of desperation; without the ability to fire the main gun, due to a failure in a thirty-cent component, the Macross looked to be on the verge of capture or destruction. Misa had suggested, and hurriedly implemented, a plan to use the pinpoint barrier system to reinforce the _Daedalus'_ prow. Destroids had been rushed to the ship's landing ramp, and the _Daedalus_ had been rammed into the enemy ship.

Given that _Daedalus_ and _Prometheus_ were mounted to the sides of the slightly humanoid form of the _Macross_, it looked like nothing more than the _Macross_ punching the incoming vessel.

But then the _Daedalus'_ prow had split open, and sixteen Tomahawks, Phalanxes and Spartans had launched all their missiles, directly into the enemy ships' compartments. When starting inside the vessel's primary armour belt, there was very little that they could not tear apart.

"It won't hurt us to hang around for a while...it'll be at least two weeks before we can burn for a transfer orbit...we might as well take on the supplies." Global looked up. "Claudia, plot us a re-entry orbit, to put us down two hundred kilometers minimum from the base. Misa, once Claudia has the orbit plotted, I want you to execute it."

"Aye aye, Sir."

* * *

They had transferred flight control from the _Macross_ to the _Prometheus_, and this meant that carrier operations again involved catapults. Ranma flagged the cat chief, and grabbed the "holy fuck" handles. This was partially to ensure that the catapult chief knew his hands weren't on the stick; the Valkyrie was more than capable of handling the cat shot better than he.

It also helped when the shot happened. The bird went from relative rest to four hundred klicks in the space of three seconds. Ranma shook off the effects of the cat shot, and grabbed his stick and throttle.

"Skull Eight, Gunsight One. Come left to two niner five relative to the initial."

"Roger, Gunsight One." He brought _Switchblade_ over, keeping it in the reference plane created by the _Macross'_ vector and bridge. The massive spaceship was already plowing atmosphere; beneath him, Ranma could see the Isidis Planitium, a massive crater, and ahead, the mountain of Elysium Mons. Beyond that, the long inactive caldera of the forbidding Olympus Mons, tallest mountain in the solar system, was just coming into view.

Beyond that lay Chryse Planitium, a massive crater, and in the center of it, Base Salla. The first human scientific outpost on Mars. The product of a massive endeavour by the United Nations, it had eventually run low on funding, especially in the wake of the Anti-Unification war. The non-United countries had objected to it, stating that if the United Nations wanted to act as a super-government, it had to abide by the rules that other nations respected. Including the rule that no one government could claim a non-terrestrial area.

The United Nations had elected, in the face of their political problems, to remove the people from Salla. But before the ship could lift off, someone - believed to be the Chinese, but there was no proof - had detonated a very dirty bomb. The pulse of neutron radiation released by the bomb could not be stopped by a spaceship's hull, not even by the hardier structures of the base itself.

And what that much neutron radiation did to the human body did not bear thinking of.

They were passing over Amazonis Planitia now - Ranma chuckled at the memories the name brought. They had veered southward, to avoid Olympus Mons, and Ranma checked his nav comp. _Macross_ would be passing between Alba Patera and Ascraeus Mons, and would come to rest at Lunae Planum. Assuming all looked well there, the ship would be using her antigravity servos to travel to Salla.

* * *

"Someone needs to be on the ground, Sir."

Global nodded. "I agree, Misa. But I do not think that it needs to be you."

"Sir, I know this base better than anyone else aboard save you. And all due respect, Sir, but you're a little too important to this boat to risk on a leg recon."

"The same could be said of you, Misa." She opened her mouth to protest, and Global held up a hand. "You're my acting XO, the CAG, Tactical Operations Officer, helmswoman, and general pain-in-the-neck. I'm not really willing to risk your life on a job that could be done by a Valkyrie pilot, Special Operation officer, G2 staff officer...hell, a simple rifleman."

"Sir--"

"There's something else that makes you want to go in, isn't there?" Her eyes widened, and Global chuckled. "Just because I disapprove of the soap opera happening on my bridge, doesn't mean I ignore it. Tell me the truth, and I might be persuaded to let you go in."

"Sir...there was a man posted to this base who meant...quite a lot to me. If anyone could have survived the attack, it's him." She looked down. "I'd...like to find out for sure."

"You see? That wasn't so hard. Permission denied."

She looked up, her face angry. "You--"

"I said _might_."

"That's--"

He wagged a finger at her. "No-one ever said I was fair." He turned, walked over to the bridge chair, and sat down. "Status of the perimeter?"

"Fully secure," reported Claudia.

"Misa, launch a Cat's Eye to overfly Salla. Once we get the recon data, we'll decide whether or not to move _Macross_ closer."

She swallowed her anger. "Aye, Sir."

* * *

"Gunsight One, Cat's Eye Two One Five. No sign of enemy at the Mars Base."

Global pulled his pipe from between his teeth. "Any sign that the base might still be inhabited?"

Misa relayed the question to the recon aircraft, then waited for the response.

"Gunsight One, that's a negative. All the lights are out. But it looks from here like the airlocks are still sealed. Wait one..." There was a pause. "No pressure in the habitat, Gunsight One. If there's anyone there, they're not breathing."

"Affirmative, Two One Five." Misa looked down.

"What about that transmission?" Global rubbed his chin. "Computers will cheerfully execute delayed programs after external stimuli - we should know that as well as anyone. But why this program?"

"Standard data dump, Captain." Claudia was examining the signal again. "The colony programmers may have set it up as a standard procedure."

"They had visitors maybe once per year," said Misa.

"I agree; it's a damned odd thing to find." Global considered. "All right. I want someone to go over and check out the computers. Any volunteers?"

Misa whirled, to see him staring at her with a twinkle in his eye. She opened her mouth, paused, then snapped off a salute.

"I volunteer, Captain."

"Well...I'd not want to inconvenience you."

"Captain!"

"All right, I'm teasing you." He chuckled. "And you make it so damned easy. Go on. Get out of here."

* * *

With the antigravity servos back online, it was a simple matter for the ship to shift its position to within five kilometers of Salla. Ranma watched as it settled into the sandy Martian ground. Soon, a convoy of trucks was on its way to the base, along with a few Destroids.

Behind the convoy was a land rover, its single occupant dressed in an environmental suit. However, it soon veered off from the convoy, and instead of following them to the warehouses, headed towards the main habitat. Ranma frowned, and clicked over to the _Macross'_ command net.

"Gunsight One, Skull Eight. We got someone checkin' out the base?"

"_Skull Eight, Gunsight Two. Gunsight One is off the bridge deck._"

"Oh, really?" It was Claudia who answered. Ranma's frown deepened. "Gunsight Two, request permission to escort said recon."

"_Aren't you due to go off shift soon, Ranma?_"

"Yeah, but I'm still in good shape."

There was a pause - perhaps Claudia was conferring with someone? Then she came back on the net. "_Skull Eight, your request to escort the recon approved._"

"Thanks." He shifted to Gerwalk, and turned the Valkyrie towards the jeep. It didn't take him long to catch up. The occupant of the jeep - he couldn't see who it was, thanks to the pressure suit, but could take a good guess - looked up and flashed him a thumbs-up.

* * *

Ranma adjusted the fighter's trim, until the nose nearly touched the ground, then sealed his e-suit and popped the canopy. He didn't bother with the ladder, just jumped over the side. It took him some time to reach the dirt, as the gravity was only a third of Earth's. His suit radio lacked the chin-pad that full pressure suits boasted, and he had to adjust the controls on his left forearm.

"Yo, Misa."

She chuckled. "Nice of them to send a bodyguard."

"They seem to think you're important or somethin'." He grinned. "You know the codes to get this door open?"

"At a scientific outpost, populated only by authorized people?" She touched a button, and the airlock slid open. "Yes, I think I can figure it out."

"Right. Locks ain't much use out in the middle of nowhere."

"Captain wants us to check out the data center." She stepped into the lock. "This is a secondary lock, but there's room for both of us if we're friendly."

There was more than enough room, and it took the lock only ten seconds to equalize pressure. They stepped into the base, and Misa checked her suit's readouts.

"Very low pressure, maybe a tenth of a standard atmosphere. Cold too. We'll have to keep the suits on."

"Which way?"

She frowned, and pointed down a corridor. "This way, I think."

* * *

"Status of the convoy?"

"Eighty percent loaded, Captain. The lead elements are already formed up and ready to roll."

"Thank you, Claudia." The captain glanced over at Shammy. "What about that data link?"

"I've got Lieutenant Hayase on the radio, Sir."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"Sorry, Sir." She flipped a switch.

"_--open link at all._" Misa's voice was overlaid with a lot of static. "_No sen---- systems ----ing, no date or ev--- triggers...it just --arted up as though at random._"

Global cleared his throat. "So it just happened to start up? No apparent reason?"

"_That is correct, Cap----. I can't e--- get acc--- to --- com----_" Her voice broke up completely. Global frowned.

"That is dammned irregular. I don't like it at all." He turned to Claudia. "Get another Squadron deployed. Gerwalk mode, perimeter watch. And launch a second Cat's Eye. I want the area around us scoured."

"Aye, Sir."

* * *

Sergeant Hendricks scowled at his scope, and said, "Contact. Seismic contact off of buoy sixteen."

"Where?" Lieutenant Flores glanced over his shoulder.

"Just south of Chryse Planitium, in Kasei Vallis."

"It's a bloody canyon. Probably just a boulder bouncing down the walls." But the commander of Cat's Eye Two One Five was an experienced recon officer, and didn't believe in coincidences or accidents. He glanced over at the pilot. "Come south to one seven five. We'll overfly on infrared."

The aircraft banked cautiously - Mars' low air pressure made flight tricky at best - and pointed its nose south. Kasei Vallis was two hundred kilometers south - eighteen minutes of flight time at their current velocity - but they'd get a look into the canyon much earlier than that.

"Getting heat sources...repeat, multiple reactor sources." Hendricks' voice rose. "Shit, there's a whole pisspot fulla battlepods down there. Repeat, multiple enemy contacts!"

"Ibanez, get us the hell away from here. Top speed, redline the damn engines." Flores opened a channel to the Macross. "Gunsight Two, Cat's Eye Two One Five. I have multiple enemy battlepods in Kasei Vallis. Well over a thousand."

"Here they come. Estimate ground speed one hundred fifty kilometers per hour."

"They can't catch us. Gunsight Two, you are about to come under attack."

* * *

"What's the status of the convoy?"

"Nearly here, Captain."

"Get them aboard as soon as humanly possible. I want this ship buttoned up. Shammy, send to Lieutenants Hayase and Saotome: Evacuate the base. Sound general quarters. Then get Lang on the horn."

"Sir, I lost contact with Misa and Ranma about three minutes ago."

Global ground his teeth. "Get me Lang."

"Yes, Sir."

"Mister Lang, I want the reactors brought up, and start up the antigravity servos."

"At once, Captain."

"Sir!" Claudia turned to face the Captain. "I am registering a very strong magnetic pull on the ship. Force approximating six gees. We can't take off against that pull, even with the thrusters!"

"A trap," growled Global. "And we landed right in the middle of it!"

* * *

The deckplates trembled under their feet. Ranma paused. "You feel that?"

"Yes...an earthquake?"

"Technically, it'd be a Marsquake," joked Ranma.

"But Mars is geologically dead," mused Misa. "The odds of it being a quake are very low..." She glanced at her suit radio readouts. "We've got to get in contact with _Macross_."

Ranma twisted a dial on his own radio controls. "Okay, I've patched into _Switchblade's_ communications...and now I got a channel to--"

His suit radio was immediately flooded with traffic.

"_Sixth and Eight Cav are completely wiped out, and Seventeenth is taking heavy fire!_"

"_Green Squadron is down nine planes._"

"_Local magnetic pull increasing. If we don't get rid of that--_"

Misa broke into the chatter. "Gunsight Two, Lieutenant Hayase here. What's going on?"

"_Misa!_" Claudia's voice showed obvious relief. "_We're under attack by the enemy, forces in regimental strength!_"

Misa gasped; the _Macross_ couldn't field half a regiment, even if one took all its Destroids and Variable Fighters together.

Global's voice came on the net. "_Lieutenant Hayase, we're being held down by some sort of magnetic device. Its pull is bad enough, but it's also destabilizing our gravity control system. It seems to be buried three kilometers down, more or less under the ship._"

"Understood, Sir. I'll report back--"

"_Negative. Is Lieutenant Saotome still with you?_"

He clicked open his mike. "Here, Sir."

"_Good. I want you two to get to the reactor controls for Salla. PO Laird believes that if you overload and detonate the reactor, the radiation will fry whatever's holding us here._"

"Yeah, and us too."

"_Set the reactors to overload, and then evacuate. Once you remove the control rods, you'll have--Thank you, Mister Lang. Eleven minutes to evacuate to minimum safe distance._"

Misa nodded. "Aye aye, Sir. We're on our way."

"Just like that?" exploded Ranma.

She turned to face him. "There are seventy thousand people aboard that ship. And we can get out of here in eleven minutes, if you're half the pilot you boast of being. Are you up to it?"

Ranma bristled. "Lead the way."

Luckily, her helmet concealed her smirk. "Level B4. Elevator's over here. Let's go."

* * *

"Getting a thermal spike from Salla's reactor, Captain. It looks like they did it."

Global nodded. "All Destroid combat teams, fall back to the ship. Valkyries are to fight a holding action until the Destroids are aboard."

"Aye, Sir."

"Lang, how are those engines coming?"

"Antigravity servos are responding, Captain, but cannot generate any lift."

"Noted." Global leaned back. "What about Hayase and Saotome?"

"Still no contact, Captain."

Global scowled.

* * *

"**Attention.**" The computer's voice was flat and emotionless. "**High alpha particle flux detected. Emergency bulkheads closing.**"

"Aw, no!" Ranma skidded to a halt just as the bulkhead slammed shut in front of him. "I can't get through this, not without wreckin' my suit."

"There's a hatch here." Misa grabbed the handle and undogged it. "We can go through here." She pushed the hatch open, revealing a tiny living compartment.

"Great." Ranma pushed past her, and looked about. "We got a porthole here. If we can bust through..." He turned, to see Misa holding a photo. "What's that?"

"Of all the compartments..." She turned, held the photo out. "This was his quarters."

"Huh?"

He took the photo, looked down at it. It showed a younger Misa, with a tall, rather handsome man. Unruly brown hair framed a confident face, and the look on his face as he gazed down at the girl beside him put any reservations Ranma had had to rest.

"Riber." He looked up in shock. "What are the odds?"

"When he told me he was going to Mars...I promised him I'd come too. I joined the UN Spacy, worked to get on the _Macross_, just so I could come to Mars. To be with him." Her voice broke. "I finally made it."

They stood in silence, until the voice of the computer broke over them.

"**You now have eight minutes to reach minimum safe distance.**"

"Come on," she said. "We need to go."

He looked up at her. "You wanna bring this?"

She shook her head. "No. He's..." She swallowed visibly. "He's dead."

Ranma lowered his voice. "Don't you want somethin' to remember him by?"

"He was like you, Ranma," she said softly. "He only signed up with the UN Spacy to protect others. He hated violence, but was willing to wear the uniform for the right cause. And it killed him." She shook her head again. "But if we don't get going, we're going to be joining him."

She took the photo, set it back on the desk.

"I don't need this to remember him. I can remember him quite well on my own. And maybe...it's time to let him go." She looked up at him, and he was struck by what he could see in her eyes.

"We don't have much time," she said.

Ranma nodded, and turned to face the porthole. "Cover your visor."

She raised her hands, and he reached inward, found his _wa_.

_Misa's put her life in my hands...She trusts me enough ta look after her...'Cause she knows I'm the best!_

He brought his hands together, and the blast of confidence _ki_ blew out the porthole.

Misa gaped. "_What did you just do?_"

"It'd take too long to explain. Come on, and don't cut your suit on the glass!"

* * *

"Lieutenants Hayase and Saotome report successful recovery, Captain."

"Three minutes to detonation."

"Sound recall for the Valkyries," ordered Global. "Stand by for liftoff."

"Full power to reactors in five seconds."

"Liftoff T minus one hundred fifty seconds."

"Captain, the enemy is attempting to force a boarding action at _Daedalus_. Tomahawk platoons are counterattacking."

"How long until we can seal the _Daedalus?_"

"Another minute, maybe two. Skull is attacking the enemy forces from the rear."

Global's scowl deepened. "This is the last time I'll think with my stomach, I promise you that."

"Amen, Skipper," chuckled Claudia.

"Green Squadron has finished recovering, and Gold Squadron is now beginning recovery."

"Enemy repulsed at _Daedalus_, and we have sealed the landing hatch."

"_Prometheus_ reports all hatches sealed."

There was a brilliant glare ahead of them.

"Shit, it went early."

"Just as good," muttered Global. "Launch now!"

_Macross_ surged upwards, shaking the dust of Mars from its hull and angling upwards.

* * *

The observation deck was empty, save for two people. The massive portholes looked out over the back of the ship, allowing Misa and Ranma to look back at the glowing crater that had been Salla.

"I waited four years for him to come back, Ranma. Only to learn of his death." A tear slid down her cheek. "You were there for me then. And I don't know...if I'd been on my own, I don't know if I'd have been strong enough to leave that compartment."

"You woulda been," he assured her. "You're tough, Misa. Ya don't often show it, but it's there."

"Am I?" She turned to face him. "I've been too much of a coward to tell you...these last few years--"

He raised a hand. "Misa--"

"Don't stop me!" Her breath caught. "I don't know if I can do this again...Ranma. We've been friends a long time, and...I think I want us to be more."

He stared at the receding planet. "Misa, you just had...well, an unnervin' experience." He looked over at her. "I promised myself, four months or so back, that if ever you asked me this, I'd say yes."

Hope shone in her eyes.

"All I'm askin' is...gimme a day before I answer, okay. If tomorrow, you still wanna start datin' for real, then I'll say yes." He looked back at the planet. "But today...you're still hurtin'. I don't wanna take advantage of that."

"I understand." She smiled softly. "And thank you."

* * *


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Miss Macross

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Thirteen: Miss Macross**

**February 24th, 2010**

_Science and Technology Report_

_Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_The VF-1J Valkyrie_

_The VF-1J is a variant of the Valkyrie produced by Shinnakasu Industries of Japan, under license from Stonewell-Bellcom. As part of the license, Shinnakasu received the original Valkyrie YF-1A prototype specifications, as well as the Block Two upgrades applied to the production VF-1A and -1B. However, Shinnakasu felt that merely producing Valkyries according to specification was not good enough, especially in the aftermath of their losses in the Phoenix project._

_Therefore, Shinnakasu's top engineers, including Kawamori and Tatsunoko, elected to upgrade the avionics of the Valkyrie. The most prominent change is the replacement of the AN/APG-35 fire control system with the more advanced AWG-33. While no superior in the ground attack role, the AWG-33's radar has a fifteen percent range increase over the AN/APG-35 radar set, as well as a thirty-five percent lower probability of intercept. In passive mode, the AWG-33's antenna can detect a broader range of frequencies, making fire-control possible on AWACS frequencies. This allows, for example, a Cat's Eye to paint a target with a steered radar beam, and the VF-1J can then launch missiles against it without the need to illuminate the target itself._

_In addition, the AWG-33 has a more robust battle computer, using the IBM/Freescale e700-based PowerPC processor and having 1024 megabytes of RAM available. By comparison, the AN/APG-35 uses the Freescale ColdFire, and has only 16 megabytes of RAM. The AWG-33 can handle gross motor smoothing in all modes for the VF-1J, plus navigational processing, whereas the VF-1A uses two separate computers for that function in addition to the ColdFire-based battle computer._

_This freed up considerable cubage inside the hull of the fighter. Aside from the Block Two hull changes and the prototype-style sensor head and laser turrets, the VF-1J is externally identical to the YF-1A. The spaces freed up in the primary fuselage were filled with more powerful generators for the jammers, permitting them to blanket an area seventeen percent greater. In addition, countermeasure stores were increased to twenty chaff and flare each, in a hexagonally-packed box launcher._

_The AWG-33 is capable of handling the AIM-9 Sidewinder, AIM-120 AMRAAM, GA-23 Diamondback and GA-31 Jackhammer missiles, all of which are equally supported by the AN/APG. In addition, the AWG-33 can handle the GS-11 Coral Snake, normally carried by the Tomahawk and Spartan Destroids. These missiles can be carried in pairs, or in box-launchers of five._

_Twenty-four of the VF-1J were shipped to Macross Island before Launch Day. Six of them were Block One, with the original FF-2000 fusion engines. The use of the VF-1J is reserved to Flight leaders or those with their Ace of Aces ribbons._

* * *

"Sweet!" Ranma dropped into the front office of the Valkyrie. This particular machine had been in storage since Launch Day, not having had a pilot to drive it. But as Ranma was now Skull Thirteen, leader of the Third Flight of the Jolly Rogers, he warranted an upgrade.

Externally, it was the same as _Switchblade_, but internally, it was a whole new ball of wax. The software came up in record time, and the helmet tracking gyros' calibration range was much higher. He twisted his head left and right, watched through the monocle as the turret camera tracked his head motion.

"Nice, huh?" The new airplane came with a new plane captain, a young and attractive woman named Jane Bell.

"You can say that again, Warrant."

"We've already got your name and kills on the side of her, but no plane name yet. Got anything in mind?"

"Not off-hand. But I got a week before I gotta fly her, and I'll come up with somethin' before then."

It had been a rocky ride, getting the Flight, but Ranma had gritted his teeth and carried through. The first obstacle was that the Jolly Rogers were already over-establishment. Roy had thoughtfully arranged to get five pilots transferred to other Squadrons. All five were among his most senior pilots; only Kramer and Roy had more hours in type than Ranma now.

A sixth transfer had been more difficult to arrange, but Ranma had pulled that one off. Since he and Misa had officially started dating, they'd had to be a little more cautious about conflicts of interest. But this conflict had had them at opposite sides of the field.

* * *

**February 17th, 2010**

Misa shook her head. "Out of the question."

"Come on, Misa. He's ready! He was all over the enemy at Mars, coverin' the Destroids, and he cleaned up in the Rings of Saturn."

"He's a dangerous lunatic, and shows no proper respect for authority. And I'm still not convinced he isn't a peeping tom."

Ranma sighed. "Look, I ain't Ichigyo's biggest fan, either. He got off on the wrong foot with me, and basically stayed there. But the fact is, he's a good pilot, and seems to have good command instincts."

Misa rubbed her temples. "I don't understand why you're arguing that he should have his own Squadron. If anybody deserves that, it's you."

"Roy wants him to have the command. He wants me in the Rogers. I don't know why, I don't think it matters." Ranma sat down opposite his girlfriend, and put one foot up on the coffee table. "But he wants Ichigyo's board, and he'll get that, whether or not you're on it. He wants you on that board, specifically because you don't like the kid."

"Wait--" Misa held up a hand. "You're telling me that he's trying to sabotage his oldest friend's career?"

Ranma shook his head. "No. He just wants Ichigyo to get his promotion honestly, and get his command honestly. He thinks - and I agree - that you're the best shot at that."

"But I don't--"

"Don't like him. I know." Ranma nodded. "That's why he wants you there. Because you'll dig to find somethin' ta prove that Ichigyo ain't ready." She darkened, and Ranma held up his hand. "I don't mean you'll sabotage him. I mean that if there's somethin' there, you'll find it. If there's not...what would you tell the board?"

"That...he deserves the command," admitted Misa.

"You see? You're honest and professional, and that's why he wants you there."

"Why don't you sit the board?"

"Because I'm his Flight Leader," said Ranma. "I gotta appear as a witness."

"You're not his Flight Leader yet," she objected.

"I will be by the time he faces the board."

"I still don't like this." Misa jumped to her feet. "But I'll do it. You owe me."

"Anything ya want."

She paused, and turned to look at him evilly. "_Anything?_"

* * *

**February 24th, 2010**

"Well, if it isn't Squadron Lieutenant Saotome."

"Hey, Nabs." Ranma grinned. "Nice brief on the Jaybird."

"Thanks. And don't call me that." Nabiki sat down opposite Ranma. The White Dragon was moderately busy, with Minmay and Saochin rushing from table to table. Ranma had a good-sized teapot of nothing but hot water in front of him, which explained why he was male and in the same room as Minmay. He also had the remains of what looked like enough Chinese food in front of him to feed the whole Tendo family, including the in-laws.

Mind you, genuine Tendos were getting hard to come by; as far as she knew, she was the last one of the name from their branch of the family. Kasumi had taken her husband's name, and was now a Tanaka. And her father had been an only child.

"Listen, I never had an opportunity to properly thank you for saving me."

He waved it off. "It wasn't nothin'. Any other member of the UN Spacy woulda done the same."

"Actually, from what I hear, they wouldn't. And you got in hack for saving me."

"It hurt my promotion schedule, but the Captain waited until after my last board before calling me up," said Ranma. "So it'll be a long, long time before I screen for Commander, but Squadron Lieutenant ain't a bad billet."

"And you just got your own Flight."

"It ain't assembled yet, but yeah." Ranma indicated the file in front of him. "Five new recruits, freshly posted to the Rogers from training. They'll all suck, but hey...that's why they're assignin' them to me."

"Ever modest, aren't you?"

Ranma shrugged. "There's no room for bein' modest when it comes to flyin' combat."

"And I also hear that you and Lieutenant Hayase have finally stopped lying to yourselves."

This elicited a knee-jerk reaction from Ranma: He threw up his hands and squawked, "It ain't like that!"

Nabiki smirked. "So you and Lieutenant Hayase _aren't_ dating?"

"I didn't say that, either." He calmed down enough for his brain to start working. "We were never lying to ourselves, or each other, or anyone else on this boat. But she wasn't ready to move forward with a relationship, and I'm not certain I was either."

"Riber and Akane?"

"More Riber than Akane," admitted Ranma. "I found closure the day the _Macross_ crashed on Earth. She had to go to Mars to find it."

"The day the..." Nabiki frowned. "What was it about the _Macross_ that helped you?"

"It wasn't the ship itself. It was the mission I was on."

"What about it?"

"I ain't rehashin' it again," growled Ranma. "Just pull my damn file. You got the clearance."

"All right, fine. So you both got over your problems, and decided to start dating. That's all I really wanted to know." She paused. "But I still need to thank you properly for saving me. How about dinner?"

He indicated the remains of his meal. "Already ate."

She snorted. "Looks like five combo plates, and a side order of Moo Goo Guy Pan. You're still hungry."

"Well...I was thinkin' about orderin' a bit more..."

"Thought so." She waved at Minmay, who nodded, but had her hands full. "Heard about this talent contest the Mayor is trying to organize?"

"Yeah," muttered Ranma sourly. "It's all Minmay's been talkin' about, half the Skull has requested extra time off to go to it, and it's all my fault. Shot myself in the foot real good with that one."

"Huh?"

"Me an' Misa went to the Mayor an' told him we were worried about civilian morale," explained Ranma. "He cooked up this beauty contest thing. Told us to let him handle all the details."

"Sounds like a good idea, in my opinion," said Nabiki. "Keep people's minds off the bad spot we're in."

"Yeah...except for one little detail."

"What would that be?"

Ranma reached into the folder and passed a form over to her. She picked it up, and examined it briefly.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be joking," she laughed. "Why the hell would you--"

"I owed Misa a favour," he growled. "She forced me to sign up."

"Really." Nabiki chuckled. "I'll be there with a camera."

"Joy."

* * *

She wished that she'd had a camera two hours later, while talking with Claudia. The spit-take was definitely a Kodak moment.

Claudia set down her coffee cup and carefully wiped her chin. "Can you say that one more time, please? Just so I'm certain I heard you right?"

Nabiki picked up a napkin and dabbed at her uniform. "Miss Macross. Ranma. Misa signed him up."

"Oh. I did hear you right. Pity; the day seemed to have very little loopiness in it so far." Claudia sighed. "Why the hell would he--"

"He owed her a favour." Nabiki leaned back and sipped her own coffee.

"That's a pretty large claim. It must have been a hell of a favour."

"He didn't say. But he saved my life, and I repaid him with dinner, which he thought was acceptable. For Misa to put him through this--"

"I'm not sure that she really understands what she's putting him through," mused Claudia. "She knew him for almost ten years as a woman. Didn't have a clue that he was really a man."

"So she might still be thinking of him, subconsciously, as female."

"Yes." Claudia frowned, and added, "We should do something about that."

Nabiki held up a form. "Something like this?"

Claudia blinked, and then grinned wolfishly. "Oh, yes. Something like that indeed."

* * *

Global rubbed his forehead where he'd smacked it against the top of the hatch frame. "Dammit, I _will_ get Engineering to raise that hatch...Lieutenant Hayase. Front and center!"

Misa blinked, and turned to face the Captain. "Sir?"

"I'd like to commend you for your efforts on behalf of the citizens of Macross City. You've certainly gone above and beyond where it comes to that beauty pageant."

Beside her, Claudia snickered. Misa ignored it, and nodded. "Thank you, Sir. Though I think that Lieutenant Saotome's contribution is considerably greater than my own."

"Nonsense! No false modesty here, Lieutenant." Global sat down in the center chair. "You've certainly invested no small amount of time and energy to the project. Though I note that there is a scheduling conflict; you're on the bridge during the contest."

Claudia was now suppressing giggles. _What the hell is she so amused about?_ mused Misa. To the Captain, she said, "It's unfortunate that I'll miss it, but duty comes first."

"Personally, I think your duty is to attend. So I'm giving you an eight-hour leave to attend."

Misa blinked. "Thank you, Sir."

"And I fully expect you to bring home the grand prize."

Misa blinked again. "Sir?"

Claudia was now having trouble standing upright.

"It was a stroke of public-relations genius to enter the contest yourself," continued Global. "Think of all the positive press this will generate."

"Uhhh...yes, Sir." Misa turned back to her station, scowling angrily. "I'm going to kill her," she muttered.

Claudia glanced over. "Who?"

"Ranma," Misa snarled. "This has to be her idea of revenge."

"Actually," said Claudia, "it was me who entered you."

Misa stared at her in shock. "What? _Why?_"

"Because I thought that _Macross_ needed a representative, and you're better looking than me."

"Forget it," Misa scowled. "I'll withdraw."

"You owe me a favour."

Misa stared at Claudia in horror. "You wouldn't--"

"Oh, yes, I would." Claudia's expression darkened. "If you can use that schtick on Ranma, I can use it on you."

"Is that what this is?" Misa turned back to her console angrily. "You knew Ranma wouldn't do anything to weasel out, so you're inflicting this on me?"

"And why not?" Claudia turned back to her own console. "If you're willing to inflict it on _him_, then the least you can do is take the same medicine." She paused, and added, "At least you're female. You're dating the guy, and you still think he's a girl."

Misa deflated. "I guess you've got a point. I'll apologize to him after the contest."

"Not before?"

She shook her head. "Not until we've _both_ taken our lumps."

* * *

**March 3rd, 2010**

"Number sixteen, Lieutenant Misa Hayase." The announcer was an American, and put her family name last, as was their tradition. Misa felt as though she were standing before the crowd naked, in her red bikini. She managed to keep a smile pasted to her face as she crossed the catwalk. The cheers from the military sector were particularly loud, as they were getting to see a side of their commanding officer that didn't normally make an appearance.

Not to mention two legs, a belly, and several other parts of her body normally kept concealed by her uniform.

"Number seventeen, Lieutenant Ranma Saotome."

_He has to be in his own personal hell,_ she mused as the energetic girl bounced onto the stage. _But he's taking it with a lot more grace than I am._ Ranma waved to the crowd, flashed a stink-eye at the jeering soldiers - her curse was public knowledge by now, throughout the population of the ship - and ran up beside Misa.

For her part, Misa felt rather plain and awkward next to Ranma. In girl form, she was appallingly cute, very buxom, and the teal-and-gold-chain bikini was cut to flatter her figure. Whereas Misa's appeared to have been tailored to reveal; there was less material in her entire suit than in either part of Ranma's.

"What the hell is that Minmay girl wearing?" Ranma snickered. "She might as well be in a fur coat."

"She's only sixteen, Ranma." Misa chuckled. "She probably isn't brave enough - or stupid enough - to wear something like this."

"Well, don't tell her, or anyone else, but I think that Mayor Luan rigged the vote." Ranma snickered again. "Minmay's the ship's darling, and I think she'd win based on nothing more than her personality, but I heard from a guy in programming that Tommy specified that she get twenty percent more votes than she actually receives."

"Really?" Misa looked shocked. "That would be unethical." She glanced down to where the announcer was now handing Minmay the microphone. "Does anyone else know about this?"

"No," said Ranma. "But if she doesn't win, it'll be a bit of a disappointment to Tommy." She paused as the announcer reached her. "Oh no."

"Miss Saotome. Can you tell us a bit about yourself?" The announcer held the microphone out to her.

The General Quarters siren chose that moment to blare.

"Thank God," muttered Misa.

Ranma grabbed the microphone. "I'd love to answer the question, but I'm afraid that the ship is under attack. I have to go blow up the bad guys now."

She tossed the microphone back to him, and she and Misa bolted from the stage.

* * *

Misa ran through the hatch and onto the bridge. "Status report?"

Dead silence answered her, broken by the sound of Global's pipe clattering off the decksole. He cleared his throat.

"Lieutenant Hayase...you're out of uniform."

Misa glanced down, and blushed hot enough to ignite paper. She adjusted her bikini top. "Damn thing wasn't made to run in. What's going on?"

"Lieutenant Ichigyo reported contact with an enemy recon vessel," said Shammy. "He engaged it with missiles, but it took the hits and returned fire. His Valkyrie was damaged, and he broke off to recover aboard _Prometheus_."

"Who's on the Ready Line?"

"Lieutenant Ichigyo _was_ the Ready Line," reported Kim. "Everyone else is on leave."

"They couldn't have picked a better time to attack," muttered Misa. "Lieutenant Saotome was headed down to the Valkyrie Bay."

"Saotome's good," said Global. "But not so good that he can face off with that enemy recon ship. Shammy, put me in contact with the Valkyrie Bay."

"Channel three, Sir."

"Lieutenant Saotome?"

"Yes, Sir."

Global's eyebrows rose at the obviously female soprano. "No hot water down there, Lieutenant?"

"I got two flight suits, Sir."

"The enemy vehicle is considerably larger and more powerful than their battlepods. We've got a single YF-1A prototype fighter, equipped with the Heavy Armoured Augmentation Pack. Think that would even the odds?"

"I think so, Sir."

"Good. Take it." He closed the channel. "Position of the enemy vessel?"

"Ninety-five by fifteen, range one thousand kilometers," reported Kim. "It's just sitting there, Sir."

"Vector Lieutenant Saotome to intercept."

"Aye, Sir."

"His delta-V will be low due to the added mass of the armour," reported Vanessa. "It wasn't really made with space combat in mind."

"Any word on damage to the recon vessel?"

"Ichigyo got six good missile hits on it," said Kim. "It's bleeding air, but still operational."

"Saotome has launched, Sir."

"Claudia. Bring the starboard-side rail guns to bear on the enemy vessel."

"Aye, Sir. Helm, roll port fifteen degrees."

"Helm rolling port." Misa adjusted her controls. "Precession gyros are spinning, rate of change one degree per three seconds."

"The enemy vessel is maneuvering. Sir, they're staying outside of the rail gun's firing arc." Claudia looked back at the Captain. "They've got a lot more maneuverability than we do."

"So it's up to Saotome," mused Global. He raised his voice and ordered, "Bring up the pinpoint barrier system, and keep a shield between Saotome and the hostile until he gets inside missile range."

It proved a good plan; the recon vessel had four large energy weapons, that immediately started hammering away at the oncoming Valkyrie. Bolts bounced off the energy shield, but each hit destabilized the shield for a brief period. One or two bolts got through, but the Valkyrie jinked, dodging the shots with inhuman reflexes.

The enemy turned and started burning away from Macross, but Saotome's armoured Valkyrie reached a firing solution. Across the heavy armour, missile bays opened, and fifty Coral Snake missiles snarled outwards. At least half hit the recon pod, and it started to tumble, shedding flakes of armour.

* * *

Ranma smacked a fist down on the Jettison button, and the armour plates blasted away from her Valkyrie. She unstrapped her GU-11 and triggered it rapidly. The 55mm shells tore a hole through the outer skin of the pod, a gap that she widened as the boot of the Soldier-mode impacted the hull. She reached down, tearing at the armour, widening the hole further, and slipped through.

She brought the gun up, flipping on the floodlights on the Valkyrie's shoulders.

The compartment was empty.

She stepped forward, scanning the inside of the pod. It appeared that the compartment was a bridge or cockpit; three seats stood empty, their computer screens flashing alien characters.

The ship rumbled, and she turned, to see a small pod of some sort tearing away from the intruder.

"Gunsight One, _Switchblade_. Looks like the crew bugged out."

"_Roger,_ Switchblade_. The science weenies will get to play with their technology, at least._"

Her eyes crossed the computer screens again, and froze. The patterns displaying...it sure looked a lot like a countdown...

Her danger sense started screaming, and she turned and dove for the hull breach. Her Valkyrie reconfigured as soon as it was clear, and she rammed the throttle right past the firewall.

The pod exploded. The shock wave crept towards her, silent in the vacuum of space, and she realized that she didn't have the acceleration to outrun it...

It enveloped the Valkyrie, and _now_ it could be heard, an ultrabass rumbling that shook every fitting aboard _Switchblade_. The engines protested, and then promptly shut down, the computer popped every breaker it had, and the gyros packed it in completely. _Switchblade_ spun like a leaf in a tornado.

It took long seconds for the fighter to exit the blast shell, for the shock wave to pass her and leave _Switchblade_ tumbling aimlessly through space. She fired the reaction jets, bringing the spin down to a less stomach-churning level.

"Gunsight One, _Switchblade_. Still here."

"_Oh, thank God!_" Misa's relief was thoroughly audible. "_Can you maneuver?_"

She eyed the computers. "Negative. My delta-V doesn't allow me to recover, even if my computers weren't toast."

"_Okay, we're dispatching SAR. Hold tight._"

She looked up. "No need, Misa. The Cavalry just arrived."

A single Skull fighter drifted above him, final jet burns allowing it to match velocity perfectly. The Tac Net crackled with a new voice.

"_Need a lift, Saotome?_"

She grinned, and said, "What took ya so long, Ichigyo? Thought you were the best pilot on board?"

He had already started detaching _Switchblade's_ nose section. "_I must be, since I'm pulling your ass out of the sling._"

* * *

Ichigyo's Valkyrie reconfigured to Gerwalk mode and slid onto the deck, gently depositing the nose of Ranma's destroyed fighter in a cradle. Ranma waited until the pressure light turned green, then popped her hatch. She vaulted from the cockpit, and turned to look up at Ichigyo.

"Thanks, kid. Looks like I owe you one now."

"We're far from even, Sir." Ichigyo had his helmet off, and grinned at her - a familiar grin. Had she seen it on Roy? Or possibly in the mirror.

Misa tore into the landing bay and swept her off her feet. "Oh, thank God you're all right!"

Ranma chuckled. "Can ya put me down, huh?"

"Sorry." Misa released the tiny woman and took a step back. "I was so _worried!_"

"No need ta be." She eyed the taller woman. "You wore that to the bridge?"

"Well...it was a bit of an emergency, if you recall."

Ichigyo cleared his throat. "Sorry to break up the party, but don't you two have a contest to go win?"

Ranma glanced over her shoulder. "Wouldn't you rather see Minmay win?"

He chuckled. "Hey, if one of you two wins, it might help my promotion board. You'll be in a better mood."

"Well, since I'm the senior officer for your board," said Misa, "it's a good thing I'm gonna win."

Ranma snorted. "Pretty confident, ain'tcha?"

"It's like you always say, flyboy. No room for modesty, right?" Misa looked sideways at the smaller woman. "Besides, with the sort of competition I'm up against, I think I have it in the bag."

"Oh, is that so?" returned Ranma as the two headed for the hatch. "I'm gonna show you up once and for all. Ain't nothin' that anyone on that stage has that I don't have more of." She paused. "What the hell am I sayin'?"

Misa giggled.

Ranma shook her head. "Man, if my Mom heard me sayin' such stuff, she'd kill me. Heck, she'd kill me just for bein' in this thing!"

Misa thought back to the stories she'd heard about Saotome Nodoka. "You know, you might be right about that..."

* * *

"We do apologize for that brief interruption," said the announcer. "But we're back for the final questions. Miss Saotome."

A pause was required for the catcalls and snickers to die down.

"Can you tell us about your interests?"

"Sure." Ranma grinned wickedly. "Martial arts, good food, martial arts, flying, martial arts, helpin' other people out, and martial arts."

"Seems to me," said the announcer, "that you've got a bit of interest in martial arts."

"You can say that."

"Any pet peeves?"

"Yeah. Bein' hit on by guys in bars. And since this is goin' all over the ship, I'd like to tell those guys that I am a martial artist."

Another round of snickers went through the crowd.

"I'm surprised that you need to worry about it. After all, your...issues...are well known among most of the crew and the civilian population."

Ranma shrugged. "Some people just don't learn."

"Well. I hope they're listening this time." He moved over to Misa. "And Miss Hayase. Everyone knows that you are the second-in-command of the ship. But surely there's a woman behind the officer. What sort of interests do you have?"

Misa frowned slightly. "Odd that you mention it...not a lot, really. I've been interested in spaceflight and the military since I was a little girl. However, I do enjoy swimming--" There was another pause as a cheer went up, no doubt inspired by the tiny red bikini. "--though my usual choice of swimsuit is somewhat more conservative. And I also enjoy reading."

"Word has it that you are dating a pilot on the ship. One with an...interesting problem. How do you and he cope with this?"

Misa stared down at him coolly. "Primarily by not letting it matter. We've been good friends for a long time, a lot longer than we've been dating. And it doesn't matter to me."

The announcer nodded. "Great." He stepped back - possibly to put himself outside her reach - and said, "We've talked to all the contestants now, and we'll now hear from our sponsors. For those watching from home, stay tuned."

* * *

"Down to the last five, aren't we?"

"Yeah," said Ranma. She looked up and down the remaining candidates. "Minmay made it this far...probably as far as Mayor Luan could get her solely on influence. Then there's that American girl, Grace. Jamis Merlin - not surprised _she_ made it here."

"You know," commented Misa, "if there's a fix in the works, it's more likely that Jamis will be winning this."

Ranma frowned; her one run-in with Jamis Merlin had been unpleasant. "How so?"

"Big movie star, finds herself stranded on this ship, and suddenly, she's a nobody." Misa paused. "Did you notice that although the first introductions were alphabetical by given name, she was introduced last?"

"Yeah," mused Ranma. "Not sure if it gave her any advantage, though."

"Just strikes me as odd."

They were interrupted as a director quickly moved down the line, checking positions. "Two minutes, ladies. And you too, Saotome." The director winked at her.

Ranma growled, and stood. "You know, one good thing at least. With private areas to change, no-one can accuse me of bein' a pervert."

"Who would do that?" asked Misa. "All you need to see a female body is a mirror and some cold water."

"If one of the girls in the contest was an avowed lesbian, would you feel comfortable bein' nude in front of her?" countered Ranma.

"I'm not really sure," she admitted.

"Because that's essentially the situation with me, ain't it? I'm female - at the moment - but still interested in women."

"Well," said Misa, "it sure doesn't bother _me_ that you're here. If anything, it's keeping me sane during--"

"Quiet on set! Thirty seconds!"

Ranma stepped to the side, taking her position, and waited for the lights to come back up.

The announcer was ready. "Before you, you see the five finalists, as chosen by our panel of judges. But the final choice is yours. Those in the audience will be able to vote from the controls on their seats; those at home, you can phone in your votes using your five-digit identity code. Voting shall begin now."

It took two minutes for the voting to reach threshold, and another minute for the computer to tally the results and print them. The announcer was handed an envelope with the results. Ranma leaned forward slightly, realized that the results mattered to her.

_Can't help wantin' to win, can I? Even somethin' like this._

The announcer carefully tore open the envelope, extracted the card. "The audience has spoken. Our new Miss Macross is..."

* * *


	15. Chapter Fourteen: The Face of the Enemy

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Fourteen: The Face of the Enemy**

**March 10th, 2010**

_Science and Technology Report_

_Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_The MBR-04-VI Tomahawk_

_The Tomahawk is the backbone of the Armoured Cavalry Units of the UN Spacy. With a mass of 31.1 tonnes and powered by a Clance McFay MT828 fusion reactor, the Tomahawk can reach speeds in excess of eighty kilometers per hour. The primary armour belt offers thirty meters equivelant protection against penetration, sufficient to turn aside even the most massive of mecha-carried firepower, but due to its ablative nature, can eventually be worn down by sustained fire even from light weapons._

_The primary armament of the Tomahawk are paired MAULA PBC-15 particle beam cannons. Each weapon offers approximately five hundred and twenty centimeters of penetration, at a maximum range of three kilometers. They are mounted one each per arm. Alongside these, in the chassis weapons bays, are two TZ-III gun clusters. Each of these gun clusters includes a 25mm autocannon with 240 shells, a 120MW laser cannon, a flamethrower, and a 180mm grenade launcher with fifty rounds._

_The Tomahawk is also well-equipped with missiles. Each shoulder carries eleven Biforze GS-11 "Coral Snake" missiles, and each of two leg pods on each leg carries three additional GS-11, for a total payload of thirty-four of these small missiles. The large box-launcher above the shoulder carries six Raytheon SA-22 "Taipan" surface to air missiles. Two Laminton machine guns round out its armament mix. Two independant beam-riding command line-of-sight (BRCLOS) radar systems allow the GS-11 missiles to be fired in pairs, while the SA-22 missiles are infrared homing and thus fire-and-forget._

_However, despite its remarkable destructive capabilities and impressive defenses, the Tomahawk has proven itself limited in several manners when fighting the Zentraedi. The first is its lack of overall mobility. Battlepods have proven themselves capable of running at speeds in excess of two hundred and eighty kilometers per hour, and are also jump-capable. The second is its lack of hand-to-hand capability, and inability to use secondary weaponry such as the GU-11. This sharply limits the Destroid's tactical flexibility. Commanders of these units should be aware of these limitations, and deploy their forces accordingly._

* * *

"Well, if it isn't Miss Macross herself," said Claudia. "Come down from your lofty perch to mingle with us mere mortals, have you?"

"Shut up," groused Misa.

"I still can't believe that Misa won the contest," gushed Shammy.

"Our own XO, officially declared the most beautiful woman on the ship," added Kim.

"For the record, and for the fifteenth time," Misa said frostily, "I declined the award."

"Technically, all you _could_ do is pass the recording contracts, movie deal, and whatever else, off to Minmay," said Claudia. "The title itself still rests firmly upon your shoulders."

"The Captain couldn't be any happier," muttered Misa. "He thinks it's this marvellous publicity coup. But at least he's sparing me the grief you clowns are heaping on me."

The bridge hatch hissed open a second time, and Global stepped onto the bridge. "Good morning, ladies."

"Good morning, Sir!" chorused the Bridge Bunnies.

"Ah, Misa. Just the person I wanted to see." Global sat down in his command chair and pulled his briar from one pocket.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Due to your recently-won title, I've decided - and the PR flaks agree with me - that all messages from the staff of _Macross_ to the people of the city should come from you."

Misa rolled her eyes. "Yes, Sir."

"Don't take it so hard, Misa," chuckled Global. "It carries a pay bump, as well, since you're officially our PR officer. Also, we've got some re-juggling of the flight roster to do."

"Already on it, Sir." Misa picked the file up from her console. "I've put Vermillion on Ready Five at this time, but that's provisional until we get the schedule ironed out. Skull Third is on training patrol at this time; they're conducting intercept drills."

"How are they shaping up?"

Misa shrugged. "No major screw-ups yet. Lieutenant Saotome is riding them pretty hard, though."

"That's his job." Global took the folder, flipped it open. "I notice that you haven't reinforced Vermillion at this time. They're still at one Flight. Any reason why not?"

"Overall, Sir, we're still low on pilots. Once Lt. Saotome reports his Flight ready for the big leagues, I'll be transferring them all over the place. Three will likely end up going to Vermillion, unless Ichigyo screws up by the numbers."

Global's eyes twinkled with barely-concealed mirth. "You're expecting him to, aren't you?"

"Not really, Sir." Misa's eyes drifted up, to a point just above and behind Global's head. "If I thought he was going to screw up, I'd not have supported him on his Board."

"And it has nothing to do with the brief...altercation...that you had with him?"

Misa winced. The incident in question, which had occurred two days ago, still rankled with her. Ichigyo had had one of the jets in his Flight damaged, and had requested permission to return to base. She'd overruled him, as the craft's pilot had indicated that his damage was minor.

Ichigyo's response had been less than professional. He'd accused her of taking her personal gripes with him out on his men, questioned her competence as a command officer, and openly denigrated her knowledge of space combat craft.

To make matters worse, Major Focker had then backed him up, and ordered him to park his bent bird immediately.

But she clamped down on her annoyance. "No, Sir. Simply a matter of not enough pilots. We've got nine birds slated for Vermillion, but nobody to drive them."

"Fair enough." Global closed the file. "What about Sepia?"

"Until we know--"

"Captain!" Shammy leaned forward. "I'm registering a high-energy event at two seven five by fifteen."

"Space fold?"

"Negative, Sir. Weapons fire--"

"Energize the pinpoint barrier, now!" Global tossed the file aside and jumped to his feet. "Are they firing on us?"

"I think so."

Claudia turned to the Captain. "Pinpoint barrier fully energized."

"Intercept the enemy--"

"Too late!"

Massed beams flashed across the bow of the ship, smashing an asteroid in their path of fire. The fragments of the demolished planetoid flew in all directions, including towards the _Macross_. Pieces ranging from fist-sized down hammered against the hull.

"Minor surface damage." Claudia scowled at her board. "No hits from the energy weapons, though."

"Looks like they're firing across our bow."

"Second wave--it's coming in closer aboard."

The second battery was much longer. Thousands of massive fusion beams crossed their bow, so thickly that they could not be seen through. The Pinpoint Barrier System was up, but no shots were coming within its reach.

"Still misses, Sir. Looks like a warning shot, at best."

"I've got returns on the attacking fleet, now, Sir." Shammy shook her head. "There's a lot of them. Over a thousand ships!"

"We've never detected more than a dozen before," said Global.

"I think they're trying to send us a message," offered Misa. "They're trying to scare us."

"Captain!" Shammy turned in panic. "One of the ships is maneuvering to fire for effect!"

"Barrier intercept!"

One beam stabbed directly towards the conning tower. The three discs of the Pinpoint Barrier met it, holding it back. But the Barrier was designed to block short-duration attacks, and worked through self-disruption. It was not able to hold back a constant stream of energy. One point eight seconds after meeting it, all three discs failed, and the beam stabbed through into the hull.

Massive chunks of armour splintered away from the impact site, and the beam carved its way through the tower and emerged through the other side.

Global picked himself up off the deck. "Damage report."

"Long range radar is completely down," said Shammy. "I've also lost gravitics, but self-test responds; I think that we just lost the coupling."

"Pinpoint Barrier has regenerated, but the beam is gone."

"Long-range directional communications out," reported Kim. "And I'm really not certain about our short-range comms."

"Let's test them," said Global. "Contact Lt. Saotome."

"Aye, Sir." Misa turned to her board. "Skull Third, Gunsight One. Please respond."

"_Gunsight, Skull Thirteen. What the hell was that?_"

"Stand by, Thirteen." Misa clicked off the radio. "We have short-range comms, at least."

"Sir..." Kim eyed her board nervously. "That...I don't know what this device is, but it's getting signals."

Global turned towards her. "We never did figure that comm system out, but ran a repeater to the bridge in case someone else did."

"Well, it sounds like the aliens figured it out."

"On speaker."

Kim flipped a switch, and the air was filled with a voice. A voice that spoke accented, but clearly understandable, Basic English.

"_...fire was a warning. We have the power to completely destroy your vessel. You will surrender without condition to the Zentraedi forces, or we shall destroy you. I repeat, our last volley of fire was a warning. We have..._"

"Turn it off," snapped Global.

"Insulting," said Claudia.

"Not to mention, I don't believe they have any intention of allowing us to live." Global paused. "Estimated time of repair for the long-range radar?"

"Damage Control hasn't responded back yet." Shammy shook her head. "However, a few days would be my own admittedly haphazard guess."

"That long?" Global had learned early that Shammy's haphazard guesses were better than the engineering teams' best estimates.

"At least. Looking at the number of other failed systems, I'd say that we've lost the long-range radar antenna entirely. We'd need to pull a replacement."

"There's no way we can transit this asteroid field without long-range radar." Asteroid belts were not the thickly-sown hazards so popular in science fiction, but the larger rocks generated quite a nice gravity field - more than enough to disrupt their navigation. Long-range radar was needed to pick an accurate path through the rocks. "Could you use the take from a Cat's Eye?"

"I could, but they'd need to be at least one hundred thousand kilometers ahead of our path."

Global nodded. "I expected as much. What else would you need?"

"Well...I'd need there to be an astrogator aboard to assist with navigation. At one hundred kay, there'd be some signal lag."

"Who on the ship would you trust on that assignment?"

Shammy suddenly looked very scared. "Sir...I..." She glanced over at Misa, obviously terrified, then said, "Only Lieutenant Hayase has the required skills, Sir."

Hayase blinked. "Sir, I don't normally handle astrogation. We've got a team of math heads down below that does that for us."

"But you're the only one who can do it on your own," said Shammy. "Sorry, Ma'am, but we can't put more than one more person into that Cat's Eye. Only _you_ have all the required skills."

"Lieutenant Hayase, I want you on that ship," said Global.

Misa drew a deep breath. "Sir. As your executive officer, it is my duty to advise you of any possible error. I do not feel that I have sufficient mastery of the required skills for this mission."

Global nodded. "Officer of the Day, please record the XO's statement."

"Already on tape," said Claudia.

"Thank you. XO, carry out your mission."

Misa released the breath she'd been holding. "Yes, Sir."

* * *

Warrant Mosley finished his preflight checklist, and glanced up at his rearview mirror. "All buckled in, Ma'am?"

"Almost." Misa snapped the buckles closed, tested them with a tug. "All right. Backseat ready for space."

"_Flight Engineer ready for space._"

"_Sensory ready for space._"

"Down bubble." The canopy dropped into place over her head. "Ready Five is already launched and formed up. They're just waiting on us."

"Wait. You mean that Vermillion will be riding herd on us?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Misa sighed. "Great. Just fantastic."

* * *

"Gunsight One, Skull Thirteen." Ranma slowly brought the Valkyrie around, pointing its nose towards the _Macross_. "Our patrol is up, and request permission to land."

"_Skull Thirteen, Gunsight Two._" Claudia's voice was a bit worried. "_Be advised that Gunsight One is aboard Cat's Eye Three Fifteen, currently leaving the ship._"

Ranma frowned, and glanced down at his radio to confirm that it was on a secure channel. "Any particular reason you're tellin' me this, Gunsight Two?"

"_Well, it does happen that you are a bit short on your patrol rotation, Thirteen._" Claudia's voice took on a teasing tone, one that completely failed to mask her concern. "_If you could put in, say, three more hours, it'd probably catch you up._"

"Izzat so?" Ranma smirked. "I'm a bit low on reaction mass, but most of my Flight have some to spare. Gimme fifteen minutes to tank, and I'll fall in with Three Fifteen."

* * *

Misa's first reaction was one of annoyance as the Skull fighter dropped into formation. _Doesn't he trust me on my own? Does he have to babysit me?_

Luckily, her irritation faded quickly. She clicked open the channel. "Skull Thirteen, thanks for joining us."

"_No problem, Gunsight One. Someone's gotta keep Ichigyo outta trouble._"

"_Got a big rock up ahead,_" commented Sgt. Parker, the Sensory Operator.

"Yeah, I see it," said Mosley. "I've got to go around it. Parker, pass your readings to the Lieutenant."

Misa's board shifted to show the new readings. "Thank you, Sergeant," she said absently. Her fingers danced over the controls, laying in a new course for the Cat's Eye and a second one for the Macross. "Warrant Mosley, I have the updated path for you, and am transferring it to your nav comp."

The large plane dipped slightly at the nose, and the asteroid ahead of them started to slip below. Skull Thirteen's engines flared, and he pulled ahead of the five-ship formation.

Misa scowled, and opened a channel. "Skull Thirteen, Gunsight One. Why are you breaking formation?"

"_I got a blip of somethin' on passives,_" replied Ranma. "_I wanna check it out before you guys blunder into a trap or somethin'._"

"And if it _is_ a trap, you're going to be caught in the middle of it. Vermillion One, back him up."

"_Yes, Ma'am._" His omnipresent bullshit laid aside for the moment, Ichigyo poured on throttle and started gaining on Skull Thirteen.

And all hell broke loose ahead of them.

* * *

"Battle pods!" Ranma reconfigured to Soldier Mode, and brought the GU-11 around. A snap shot blew through the porthole on the front of a pod, and he then jetted to the side to avoid return fire from another. "They're all over the friggin' place. Ichigyo, buster!"

"_Roger!_"

From the surface of the asteroid, dozens of pods rose, firing as they came. Ranma shot them down like skeet, one after another, then reconfigured to Gerwalk to jet away when his gun pod ran dry. One hand snagged a spare clip, and he rammed it home, then reconfigured to Soldier Mode and blasted another pod to fragments.

Ichigyo arrived at nearly two hundred kilometers per second, lasers spitting streams of silent crimson, and six more pods exploded in quick succession. He reconfigured, readying his gun pod, and watched as the remaining pods - perhaps two dozen in number - turned and burned at maximum acceleration away from the two fighters.

Ranma clicked on his microphone. "Gunsight One, Skull Thirteen. The bad guys are on the run."

"_We can't let them get away. They might have recon data. Pursue and destroy. Vermillion Two and Three, join them._"

"_Ma'am, I don't think that's wise._" This was from Vermillion Two. "_A Cat's Eye isn't armed. You'd be a sitting duck if we left you._"

"_It wasn't a suggestion, Sergeant._" Misa's voice turned cold. "_Pursue and destroy._"

Ranma butted in. "Lieutenant Hayase, I disagree."

"_I am in command of this mission--_"

"That might be, but you don't get direct control over tactical aviation. I am senior officer present for the Valkyrie forces." He hated to have to pull rank, but..."Vermillion Two, you will continue to escort Cat's Eye Three Fifteen. Vermillion Three, you will join us in the pursuit. Buster."

"_Yahoo! On the way!_"

"Sorry, Misa, but we got one more plane than you expected, and I want someone on you at all times."

"_Understood._"

Ranma shuddered; the ice in her voice was obvious, and he had no doubt that he'd pissed her off royally. _Well, she'll just have to cope. They wanna make me a Squadron Lieutenant, they gotta accept that maybe I know what I'm doin'._

A commo window blinked to life on the right MFD. "_Thanks, Saotome. I'm not certain that I could have made that stick myself._"

"You're gonna have to sometime, Ichigyo. Part an' parcel of bein' a Lieutenant." He smirked. "Besides, I already heard that ya yelled at her once before."

"_If Sempai hadn't backed me up, I would have caved,_" admitted Hikaru. "_As it was, I still got a lot of backlash for it._"

* * *

Misa fumed.

_How dare he! Taking that upstart Sergeant's side over_ mine_! And then he has the intestinal fortitude to pull rank on me!_

And it really irked her that he was right. Technically, he could override her orders when it came to the Valkyrie deployment. For that matter, he was equal in grade to her, but had seniority. He could pull rank even over mission goals.

_I am going to chew his ass off after this. Of all the unmitigated gall..._

Well, there was nothing that she could do about it right now. She turned back to her plotting. First-approximations were not too difficult, but were time-consuming; she radioed the first batch back to _Macross_.

"_Thirty seconds to gun range..._"

"_Contact!_"

"_Christ, where did these bastards come from?_"

Her eyes drifted over to the tactical MFD, and widened at the display. Hundreds of enemy Battle Pods had swarmed up from nearby asteroids, and were laying into the three detached Valkyries. But they were holding their own...so far. Ranma and Hikaru - she swallowed heavily when she realized that she was thinking of him by given name - were mopping up, while the Corporal flying with them--

"Sergeant, what is that Corporal's name?"

The Sergeant - Max Jenius, she recalled - appeared on her left-side MFD. "_Kakizaki, Ma'am. Thought you had all that memorized._"

She laughed. "I wish. No, I keep the flight rosters in front of me on the bridge so I seem omniscient. He's having trouble out there."

"_The Lieutenants will take care of him. He's got talent, but lacks in experience._"

"Sergeant, I recommend that you assist them; they're badly outnumbered."

"_Ma'am, my orders are to guard you with my life._" His voice turned light. "_Can't imagine why Saotome would order that._"

Misa fixed him with a cold glare. But Jenius seemed immune to it.

"_Hey, Ma'am, the announcer during the contest mentioned that the Lieutenant had some kinda problem. But anyone I ask about it just laughs it off._" Jenius's eye twinkled. "_Care to fill me in?_"

She boggled. "Are you dense?"

"_Ma'am?_"

"Did you not notice that number eighteen in that contest was named Saotome Ranma?"

"_Yeah, I thought that kind of odd._"

"Oh, Lord." She closed the communications link. "Why would Ranma leave me with the dunce?"

"Contact, hard aport." Mosley's voice broke in. "Shit, there's at least a dozen. Sorry, Ma'am."

She glanced up and to the right, as Jenius' Valkyrie snapped to Gerwalk mode and jetted towards them. "_I've got them. Some kinda powered armour._"

"See if you can't warn them off somehow, Jenius."

"_Firing across their vector._" Jenius' autocannon fired three quick bursts, and the alien armour broke formation. But they did not veer off; their new vectors carried them around in an encircling action.

"Okay, splash them."

"_Yes, Ma'am._"

Vermillion Three roared into action. The GU-11 fired three more times, each burst finding an armoured faceplate. Jenius whirled on the spot, pickling off missiles. Unfortunately, the aliens had halfway decent jamming systems; about half the missiles lost lock and wandered off, self-destructing when their fuel was exhausted. Jenius was far from done, however. One armoured boot smashed into a faceplate, and Jenius leaped off from his impromptu springboard, autocannon blazing as he went. Two bursts hammered another armour suit, which promptly came apart at the seams, and a third burst went through another faceplate - Jenius had spotted the armour's weak point early on.

The remaining two turned and fled. Jenius fired a final burst at one of the retreating forms, rattling it but not killing it, then paused to reload his cannon.

"_I've still got three missiles, Ma'am, and two more clips for the cannon. If those idiots are calling for reinforcements, we might be in trouble._"

"Agreed. I'll call Macross for reinforcements." She adjusted her controls. "Oh, hell. Jenius, we're being jammed. I can't even raise the advance Flight." Her eyes turned back to the tactical display. "And they're getting badly hammered out there. Sergeant Garcia, have you got a communications drone on this bird?"

"_No, Ma'am._" Garcia's voice was apologetic. "_Central stores is extra reaction mass._"

"Well, there's no help for it." Misa considered. "Sergeant Jenius. Cat's Eye Three One Five will fall back outside the jamming envelope. I want you to engage the enemy ahead with the intent to extracting the remainder of the Flight, then buster back to the Cat's Eye."

"_Might not be possible. I'm getting an ejection beacon from up ahead. Can you get them on tactical?_"

Misa glanced down at the tactical display. "Kakizaki is down. Ichigyo is showing damage. Saotome is undamaged, but running low on ammunition." She considered. "Okay. We can make pickup on Kakizaki in this bird, but not while the area is so badly polluted by enemy forces. Can you assist them?"

Jenius looked worried. "_Ma'am, my orders are to protect you so you can complete our mission._"

"We've got the first set of nav data back to _Macross_, and we can always launch another mission. This one is scrubbed. I can't carry it out while we're being jammed."

"_All righty, Lieutenant. You're the mission commander._" Jenius turned towards the furball, his bird reconfiguring to Jet Mode. "_On my way._" His engines roared, and the Valkyrie raced towards the fight.

"Warrant Mosley, take us towards the fight. Parker, active systems off. Let's see if we can avoid detection."

"_Do my best, Ma'am._"

The Cat's Eye started slipping towards the battle. Misa stared worriedly at the now-dark tactical screen. With the main radar down, she had no idea what was happening up ahead.

* * *

It was the worst furball that Ranma could remember. The computer had finally come up with an accurate count of the forces against them - eighty-one battle pods of various types, plus twenty-seven of a new type of powered armour. One of the battle pods was an advanced type of some sort, with arms instead of carapace guns. Kakizaki had discovered that it carried missiles.

"I got him, Ichigyo. Gimme some cover so I can get his ass into my bird."

"_You got it, Lieutenant._" Ichigyo whirled on the spot, cannon roaring, and splashed three more pods.

Ranma pushed Kakizaki towards the storage compartment, ignored the bigger man's muffled curses as he tried to fit himself into the cramped space. He glanced at the tactical, noted Ichigyo's fighter breaking away from the advanced battle pod. "Looks like that big bastard is coming around again."

"_If he's got more missiles, we're in trouble._"

Ranma reconfigured to Jet Mode and launched himself towards the advanced pod. He haloed it with the sensors, and thumbed the laser trigger. Dual beams of crimson light smashed into the target - and at the energy levels delivered by the lasers, _smashed_ was precisely the correct term. But the pod took it, and returned fire with its top-mounted cannon. Ranma veered at the last second, the shot passing between his tailfins, and fired off his last missile. The advanced pod brought its nose-mounted cannons into play, shooting down the missile, and Ranma shifted to Gerwalk, pulling the Valkyrie away from return fire.

He glanced down - the monocle over his left eye tracked to the laser turret on the underside of the jet, allowing him a coarse but understandable view below - to see the pod turning on the spot, pursuing him rather than proceeding on to Hikaru's fighter. Well, that pleased him just fine. He peppered the pod with fire from the turret lasers, but all it seemed to do was piss it off.

"Well, now I'm getting mad."

He jerked the B-mode lever, reconfiguring back to Battroid Mode, and brought up the gun pod. Six bursts emptied the clip, and he watched with disgust as the pod sidestepped each shot.

"Is this asshole psychic?"

He dived towards the target, foot thrusters driving him forward, and the pod brought one of its paddle-shaped arms up to strike. He parried, grabbed the arm just below the "wrist", pivoted and kicked.

The arm separated cleanly from the pod's torso.

This seemed to shock the battle pod. Ranma smirked. "Bad time to pause." He stomped left paddle, the Battroid pivoted through a full three-sixty turn, and smashed the pod's front port with the blunt end of its own arm.

This pod was built of sterner stuff than its less-developed counterparts, however. The destruction of the forward port did not kill it, but it had apparently had enough. It rocketed off at full speed away from the fight.

"Yo, Ichigyo. You okay?"

"_Yeah, I am. Some surface damage, but nothing really broken. By the way, that was sweet._"

"All in a day's work." He tossed the arm aside, readied his cannon again. "What, is everyone else leaving, too?"

Surely enough, it seemed that the loss of their leader had demoralized the enemy. They shot off in all directions. He glanced down at his tactical display, noted another incoming Valkyrie.

"Yo, Max. I told ya to stay with the boss."

"_Mission's scrubbed, Lieutenant. The boss lady says we're to report back as soon as you're unlatched. How's Kakizaki?_"

"He ain't doing so hot, but he'll live." Ranma glanced around the wreckage of the battlefield. "Gunsight One, Skull Thirteen. Why are we scrubbin'?"

"_Jamming is too extreme to be able to complete our mission._" Misa's transmission was tiling badly, a sure sign of communications jamming.

"We just chased all the aliens to hell and gone. Why are we still bein' jammed?" He quickly checked the ammunition in his cannon. "I got forty cannon rounds left, then I'm empty. Vermillion, say state."

"_Vermillion One, sixty rounds, no missiles, fifteen._"

"_Vermillion Two, four hundred rounds, three missiles, sixteen point three._"

"Ma'am, all due respect to the mission commander, but we could probably get the next set of data and hand-deliver 'em. But I'm nervous about this jammin'. How fast can you get 'em?"

"_Thirteen minutes, tops._"

"Okay, we'll try ta keep ya safe that long."

"_Negative, Skull Thirteen. Mission is scrubbed._"

He nodded. "All right. That's your say." He reconfigured back to Jet Mode. "Vermillion One and Two, fall into formation. Max, you got point."

"_Aye, Sir._"

Ranma's electronics pinged as the Cat's Eye brought its powerful radar back online. "_Skull Thirteen, Cat's Eye Three One Five. I show a clear corridor directly back to_ Macross."

"Good. Let's use it."

* * *

"Sir." Claudia glanced up from her console. "The Cat's Eye has come about, and is heading back."

Global frowned. "Could they have taken damage?"

"Possible, Sir, but there's still a lot of jamming. More likely, they've got more co-ordinates for us, but they can't relay them."

"Jamming. But from where...?" Global turned to Shammy. "Signal Cat's Eye Three Ten to advance along Three One Five's vector."

"Aye, Sir."

* * *

"New contact! Bearing three five eight by fifteen!"

"What?" Misa leaned forward. "It's right between us and _Macross!_"

"_How the hell did we miss it outbound?_"

"No idea, Vermillion One." Misa paused. "Can we avoid it?"

"Depends on what it is."

"_I don't think we can, Gunsight One._" Ranma sounded worried. "_Looks like one of their recon destroyers._"

"We can outmaneuver it--"

"New contact, multiple new contacts. They're launching combat robots."

Misa bit back the sharp taste of panic. "All Valkyries, I am transmitting the nav data I've collected. One of you has to get back to _Macross._"

"_Misa--_"

"Lieutenant Saotome, that's a direct order. That nav data is paramount!"

"_Yes, Ma'am._"

She tapped the commit stub. "All units, break and scatter!"

The three Valkyries broke off and flew in random directions. Mosley aimed the nose of the Cat's Eye towards Macross and ramped the powerplants to maximum.

"They must want us bad, Ma'am." Mosley sounded worried. "I show sixteen robots closing on us."

"Can we outdistance them?"

"Negative, Ma'am. Their vectors mave evasion impossible."

Misa bit her lip. "At least one of the Valkyries will get through."

The enemy robots came within visual range; more of the powered armour types. Four of them tackled the airplane, grabbing its wing. Another swung a massive fist at the forward cockpit.

"No!"

The Cat's Eye shuddered with the impact. Misa's head snapped forward, smashing into the console, and even with her helmet fully sealed, the impact was enough to knock her out cold.

* * *

Something was wet on her face, and it hurt. She slapped it away groggily, and opened her eyes.

The light hurt her eyes, and she forced herself to focus on the face hovering above her. A male face, a familiar one.

"Ranma?"

"No, Ma'am." He shook his head. "It's Lt. Ichigyo."

She sat up carefully. "I ordered you to scatter."

"Lt. Saotome reached commo range to Cat's Eye Three Ten, and broadcast the nav data. Then ordered us to come rescue you."

Misa smiled. "Can't fault him for that." She looked around. "Where are we?"

"Aboard an alien ship," he admitted. "I managed to get you out of the Cat's Eye, but Mosley didn't make it." He looked down. "Lt. Saotome and both of my men were captured."

She nodded, then froze. "The colours...they're--"

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Ichigyo looked puzzled. "Things were normal, if depressing and green, and then things got all whacked."

"We're in a space fold."

"Like when _Macross_ folded?"

"How long has it been like this?"

Ichigyo checked his watch. "Fifteen minutes or so. Why?"

"But if it's been that long...we've come a long way already."

"What do you mean, Ma'am."

Misa bit back panic for the third time that day. "It means we've left the solar system, we're probably hundreds of light-years away by now, and we have no idea where we are!"

* * *


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Interrogation

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Fifteen: Interrogation**

**March 17th, 2010**

_Science and Technology Report_

_Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_Space Fold Technology_

_At this time, very little is certain about the mechanics of space fold. Experimental data is limited to the one unfortunate usage of the space fold device aboard_ Macross_. The testing of the device was not under what could be considered laboratory conditions._

_It had already been determined that space fold is_ not _instantaneous. However, the apparent speed of a ship under fold is considerably higher than light._ Macross _managed to attain an apparent speed roughly one hundred and thirty thousand times faster than light. It is uncertain whether this reflects the top speed for the fold device aboard_ Macross_, or if it is the limit of space fold speed in general, or if both possibilities are incorrect._

_The space fold drive creates a bubble around the ship making transit, making it possible to fold multiple vessels simultaneously. This appears to be hard on the drive, and certainly requires more power than normally required._

_Doctor Lang has developed some mathematical models of the space fold process, and while some of his data is based on assumptions, it is the best information that we have at this time. His formulae seems to suggest that the power requirements of a space fold increases with the square of the distance being travelled. This is consistent with most other natural physical phenomena. He also believes that the space fold system uses graviton systems. Like the artifical gravity generators and the antigravity servos, not to mention the main gun, most of the technology aboard_ Macross _appears to manipulate gravity. When the space fold device was lost, the auxiliary equipment left behind allowed for the creation of the pin-point barrier system._

_Space folds appear to cause temporal shifting. Elapsed time during a space fold is longer than the apparent time within the fold itself. The primary effect of this, from the subject's view, is that light red-shifts and diffracts at odd angles, causing a prismatic effect. The temporal shift does not appear to affect quartz; timepieces that use quartz will appear to run at fifty to seventy times greater speed._

* * *

Ranma sat with her back against the wall of their tiny cell and stared apathetically at the other two prisoners. The cell was circular, the walls sweeping overhead to form a dome above them. No light sources existed within; the chamber was dark, but the ceiling appeared to be translucent, and some dim illumination made its way through the material.

To be fair, the cell wasn't all that small; when they'd awoken, all three of them were lying down with room to spare. However, Max hadn't been sparing any room; he'd been cuddled up against her, much to her disgust. A good solid shove had fixed that.

Not so many years ago, she'd have used a punch to the head instead a shove to the shoulder. But it wasn't Max's fault; he was still out cold.

Neither Kakizaki nor Max had been at the beauty pageant - though both had caught it on the television - and neither had known about her curse. Kakizaki had - for once - been less than completely dense. He'd put two and two together, and figured out who she was. But Max seemed impervious to education.

_I think he don't wanna be educated. But he better wise up shortly, or I'll pummel him for certain._

They'd been stuck in this damn cell for what seemed like days, but according to Ranma's watch, it had been much longer than it felt. The timepiece was quartz, and had been spinning madly for quite some time. It had racked up almost seven full days since their capture.

_Crud. It looks like Max is gettin' ready for another go._

"So who are you really?"

Ranma rolled her eyes. "Like I told ya sixteen times already, I'm Saotome Ranma. Squadron Lieutenant, Skull Thirteen."

"Yeah, I remember that part. I also remember you said that it was a curse, that hot water changed you into a guy."

"Then what's the problem here?" Ranma leaned forward, brow knit in frustration.

"Curses imply magic. Magic doesn't exist." Max shook his head. "I don't buy it for an instant. You've got no proof--"

"Didn't bring my tea set," Ranma quipped. "Ask me any question. I can prove I'm me."

"Or that you're well educated. Probably by Saotome himself."

"Well, Sergeant Logic, what's your theory, then?"

"I think you're one of Tennasaono's girls."

"Huh?" Ranma blinked. "Actually, that would make a kind of sense."

"You're still obviously a martial artist." Max ticked the point off a finger. "You're well-versed in Saotome's history. His mother is one of the two founders, and his sister-in-law is the other. I'm guessing that you practise his style, were trained by him or whoever trained him, and you wear your hair in the same style as some sort of tribute."

"You're right about one thing. We did have the same teacher." Ranma hopped to her feet. "Because we're the same person, you idiot!"

"Right," sneered Max. "You were in the beauty pageant. Wearing the second smallest bikini on the stage. I cannot believe that Ranma would agree to that."

"Besides that, where did you think I came from, huh?" Ranma crossed her arms. "You see any spare people in those Valks when we left?"

"Good point," conceded Max. "I guess that leaves only one conclusion."

"Good."

"You're an alien."

Ranma couldn't remember the last time she'd been floored by someone's illogic. Was it Kuno? She staggered back to her feet. "You're dumber than I thought, Jenius! Do I look twenty meters tall?"

"Lieutenant Saotome was one of the first people aboard _Macross_ when she crashed. He reported finding some human-scale chambers." Max nodded. "So there must be some aliens around our size. Were you put in with us to spy on us?"

"If that were the case, why would I make you suspicious by claiming to be a person of the opposite gender?"

"Who knows how you people think?"

"Aaargh!" Ranma threw up his hands. "Lissen, you moron! I ain't no alien! I'm Saotome Ranma!"

"Guys, you wanna keep it down?" Kakizaki cracked one eye open. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"How can you sleep at a time like this?" Max frowned. "We're in the middle of a space fold, locked up with an alien spy, and you're trying to sleep?"

Kakizaki shrugged. "You gotta learn to relax while you can."

Ranma snorted. "You could relax in a dentist's chair, Kakizaki."

"Hey, thanks, Ranma!"

"She's not Ranma," Max yelled. "She's an alien spy, or a stowaway, or maybe another hostage. But there's no way she's Ranma."

"Why not?" asked Kakizaki.

"Don't you remember the last time we argued? She started glowing all blue, and practically doubled in height."

"You shouldn't have pissed her off."

"It's weird alien powers or something, I'm sure of it."

"You better give up, Ranma. He's pretty closed-minded."

"She's not Ranma!"

Ranma sat back down, pulled her knees up to her chest, and dropped her forehead on them.

_I really hope the aliens come for us soon. Weird probes an' mind control rays would be a nice switch right about now._

* * *

"So, what's our plan?"

"I'm not really sure how to proceed," admitted Misa. "Certainly we have to find and rescue Ranma, Max and Kakizaki."

"Got any ideas about how to manage that?"

"Not really."

"We have one Valkyrie with no missiles or autocannon, half load of reaction mass. Still got the lasers, at least." Ichigyo paused. "Of course, a Valkyrie wasn't really designed for sneaking around an alien battlecruiser."

"Zentraedi." Misa grinned mirthlessly. "We learned just before I launched that they call themselves Zentraedi."

"Oh."

"On the other hand, the Valkyrie _was_ designed to be an even match for the Giants, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure where you're going with this."

"Simple. Think you could knock out a Zentraedi?"

"Yeah. And then what? Steal his uniform and try to blend in?"

He stared at her in horror as she nodded.

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding!"

* * *

"Guys, I think we're being moved."

"Thank you, Sergeant Obvious." Ranma picked herself up from the floor. "What was your first clue? Was it when we were all tossed to the side?"

"Nah, that just told me that we were picked up."

Ranma paused and concentrated. "You're right, Kakizaki. We're moving." She glanced down at her watch. "And we're out of the space fold."

"Wonder where we are?" mused Max.

"No way to know," said Ranma. "But I doubt that we're anywhere near Earth."

The room joggled again. All three pilots found themselves knocked off their feet a second time. Ranma decided to stay down this time, in case it happened again.

"Not moving anymore..." Kakizaki paused. "Wait. There we go. Smoother this time."

"You got good kinesic sense, Sergeant."

"Hey, thanks, Lieutenant."

"We don't even know that she's actually a Lieutenant," grumbled Max.

"Are you still on about that?" Kakizaki scowled. "Now even I'm getting sick of it, Max."

Silence reigned for a few minutes, then Max spoke up again.

"Who won last year's All-Service Cup?"

"Army," Ranma immediately responded. "The bastards."

Max nodded. "I doubt that the aliens care much about football. I'll accept that you're human, and probably an officer."

"Gee, thanks."

* * *

Their prison shifted again, jolting Ranma out of a light doze. She sat up, shook her head to clear it, and said, "Guys?"

"I'm up," said Max. "But Kakizaki is dead to the world."

"Give him a kick or somethin'." Ranma stood up slowly. "We're gonna have company any minute."

The walls and ceiling lifted away, and Ranma realized suddenly that they were standing in a massive serving dish. The top had been removed by one of the alien Giants.

There were three of them. The one that had removed the lid was the smallest of the three; he was "only" ten meters tall, at Ranma's rough guess. His skin had a decidedly unhealthy grayish cast, and his eyes protruded somewhat. His hair was a dark red, and while his curious expression couldn't really be called friendly, it was a lot less forbidding than those of his companions.

The next taller of the three had greenish skin and dark green hair, almost black. Ranma was guessing, based on his previous encounters, that hair and skin colour among the Giants covered a broader range than it did among humans. This one had half his head shaved, and a metal face mask covered the right side of his face. A red cabochon glinted in the mask right over where his eye would have been.

Abruptly, Ranma recognized him. He was the one who had taken a lead pipe to his Valkyrie.

The third was the tallest, at nearly eighteen meters tall, and the bulkiest. Not really fat, but he was burly, and stood damn near thirty meters tall. His head was shaved, or possibly naturally bald, and age spots speckled his pate. His expression was a mix of scorn and disgust, with just a trace of fear.

Kakizaki sat up, and looked around. "Well, we got a little red-headed one, a tall skinny one, and a big burly one. Just like the three of us." He paused. "Don't care for what the cartoonist did for mine, though. I don't recall being that ugly."

"Kakizaki, you idiot!" Ranma scowled down at the big man. "We're prisoners, so it'd be in our best interest to keep our yaps shut."

"Hey, Lieutenant, it ain't like they can understand us, right?"

"Actually, we can." The redheaded alien now looked amused. "I have studied your languages extensively. And I have prepared a translation matrix, so that our leaders may also understand you."

"Oh. Shit."

"Do not fear. I have not yet activated the translation matrix. Though I shall do so now." He touched a stud on the table.

"Can they understand us now, Exedol?"

"I believe so, Lord Bodolze."

"Good." The burly one turned his attention back to the three Humans. "Miclones. I am Gar Bodolze. You will now submit to my interrogation."

Ranma scowled, and shifted to attention. "Saotome Ranma. Squadron Lieutenant. Serial Number--"

"There is no need to give your identification," said Exedol. "I am aware of the regulations that your people have regarding prisoners of war, and they do not apply to us."

Ranma crossed her arms, and kept her silence.

The one with the face mask spoke for the first time. "There is no good reason why you should refuse interrogation. If you prove too intractable, we will simply destroy you and acquire more Miclones to interrogate."

"What the heck is a 'Miclone'?" asked Max.

"I think they mean 'people of average stature,'" said Kakizaki.

"Quiet, both of you," snapped Ranma. "They ain't gonna respect our rules, we got no reason to extend them any co-operation."

Bodolze smirked. "So, the female is in charge." He glanced to Max. "Why do you permit the female to issue orders to you?"

Max blinked. "Hey, I ain't a sexist or anything. She's an officer, and that's the end of it, right? Don't you guys have female officers?"

The suggestion itself seemed enough to cause the three Giants to recoil in disgust. The one with the mask stated, "There are no females at all here."

"None?" Kakizaki laughed. "No wonder you're all warlike!"

"Both of you, keep shut, or I swear there's a court-martial in your future," growled Ranma.

"Lieutenant, I know that this might not have occurred to you, but our future doesn't look terribly rosy right about now." Max glanced up at the Giants, then back to Ranma. "So I say we try to get some info from them, on the off chance that we might get out of here."

Ranma considered, then nodded. "All right, you've got a point." She turned back to the aliens, and took a step forward. "We shall not submit to interrogation. But we are willing to share information. Will that be acceptable to you?"

The Giants conferred, without the benefit of the translation matrix, and then Exedol turned back to the Humans. "We accept the terms."

"I cannot believe that I have struck a deal with a female," grumbled the one with the mask.

Ranma pointed at him. "You. Name and rank?"

"Eh?" The Giant seemed startled. "Vwritlai Kridanik, Commander of the Botoru Regiment."

"Is that the outfit that's been harrassin' our ship?"

"We have been attempting to recover the gun destroyer that you have commandeered," admitted Vwritlai. "We happened across your planet, and detected the signature of Inspection Army technology. Fearing an ambush, we dispatched two destroyers to investigate, and you blew them out of space!"

Ranma frowned. "Well, I ain't in the general staff, so I can't speak as to what happened there. I'm just a fighter pilot."

"Why did you attack us without provocation?"

"I just told ya, Commander. I ain't one of the brass. But one of the higher-ups I was talkin' to told me that it was a malfunction or somethin'."

"For a malfunction, it was remarkably accurate," Exedol pointed out dryly.

"We shall set that aside for later consideration," growled Bodolze. "Why do you allow males and females to freely intermix on your vessel?"

"Because it brightens up the scenery," said Kakizaki.

Exedol blinked. "In what way?"

"Come on!" Max snorted. "Surely you and your females must...get together...every now and then, right?"

"Only Lord Bodolze is sufficiently wise to interact with females with no fear of mental contamination," Exedol stated righteously.

"Whoa." Kakizaki chuckled. "Licensed to stand at stud, eh?"

"Guys, we're givin' more than we're gettin'." Ranma glanced over at Exedol. "You seem to be the one with the most brains."

"I am the Archivist of the Zentraedi people," stated Exedol.

"Okay. I know that there's female Giants. I met one once."

"Indeed."

"Yeah. She was on our ship when it crashed on our planet."

Exedol glanced up at Vwritlai. "It seems that your surmise was correct, Commander. The females managed to board the vessel before it folded."

"If you don't let 'em live with the males, where are they?"

Exedol turned back to Ranma. "They have their own fleet, their own ships. They are superior to most male warriors, and serve as a special forces unit."

Bodolze broke in. "You stated that you met one. I can only assume that she attempted to kill you."

"She attempted it, yeah. That powered armour she was wearin' is pretty tough."

"But your own combat robots were able to defeat it?"

Ranma shook his head. "'Fraid not. We didn't have any combat robots yet."

"No?" Bodolze looked puzzled. "A combat robot is considerably more manoeuvreable than any conventional vehicle, and more flexible as well. Tanks or attack aircraft would not be able to harm a standard _Queaddlun-Rau_. How did you destroy her?"

Ranma smirked, and cracked her knuckles. "With my bare hands."

* * *

"I can't believe this is working."

"Oh, ye of little faith." Misa chuckled, then grunted. "Get your elbow out of my ribs."

"Sorry, Lieutenant, but this bird wasn't built with two in mind." Under normal circumstances, Ichigyo wouldn't complain about being this close to a female. _But why this one?_

He wrestled with the controls, pulling the Zentraedi cap further down over the metal face of the Valkyrie. Ahead, he saw two aliens approaching.

"Try to think like an alien, Ma'am."

"Might be hard," commented Misa. "Noticed anything about the ones we've passed?"

"Well, they're basically human, aren't they? Except in scale, and the occasional odd hair colour."

"They're all male."

"Huh?" Ichigyo blinked. "Yeah, we've passed, what? Six of them? And they've all been guys."

"It might not mean much," admitted Misa. "Just a statistical anomaly. After all, if you pick up six pebbles from a beach, and they're all grey, you can't assume that every pebble on that beach is grey."

"What I can't figure out is all the busted stuff."

"Hm?" Misa blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, there's equipment that's damaged, and it doesn't even look like they've tried fixing it. Other stuff is dark, and I guess it's probably broken too. We've seen powered pocket doors, and yet that one alien had to open one manually. What gives?"

"We don't know how long these people have been at war." Misa frowned. "Maybe it's been so long that they've forgotten how to repair their own technology."

* * *

"With your bare hands," said Bodolze. "I find this difficult to believe. Even given that females are more dangerous than males, the fact remains that she was a full-sized individual, equipped with a combat power suit, and you are a Miclone, and by your own admission, without a combat robot. How did you manage this?"

"I am a master martial artist," stated Ranma. Her voice made it clear that this was not a boast. "I have trained since birth in unarmed combat, and have abilities that even my own people have difficulty believing."

"Indeed." Bodolze frowned. "How many of your people have training to equal to your own?"

"Perhaps a dozen," she admitted. "Though none of them are my equal, with the possible exception of Herb. And I beat him."

"Only a dozen?" Bodolze laughed. "In that event, I do not think we need to fear them."

"Nope. Just me." Ranma paused. "My turn. Our people are not interested in fighting your people. As far as I can tell, this entire situation came about through an accident. Under what circumstances would you consider a cease-fire?"

"You are, by your own admission, not a high-ranking officer," pointed out Vwritlai. "Therefore, you cannot be authorized to negotiate a cease-fire."

"True," conceded Ranma. "But I could take a message back to my people."

"You assume that we intend to release you," said Bodolze. "I cannot see why we should do so."

"As I said. I can carry a message."

"You are Miclones," said Exedol. "Our histories tell us that we should avoid any contact with Miclones, for they will contaminate us."

"Avoid any contact. Including war?"

"True." Exedol nodded. "We are warriors, but we have learned not to battle Miclones."

"So you've encountered us before?" asked Max.

"Yes, or ones like you."

"So if not for that malfunction, or whatever it was, you would have merely passed us by?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, yes." Bodolze nodded. "Contact with Miclones is disastrous. Only the highest-ranking officers may risk it, and only under dire circumstances."

"Contamination." Max frowned, then glanced over at Ranma. "Didn't they say that about the women of their people, too?"

"Yeah." Ranma nodded. "What sort of contamination do you fear?"

"Mental contamination," said Exedol. "Ideas or concepts that would lead us away from the Imperative."

"Ya know, I think I'm startin' to understand you guys," said Ranma. "Havin' women around, or talkin' to any people who don't fight, might force you to realize that there's more to life than battle."

Exedol looked puzzled, and Vwritlai looked vaguely nauseous. "Other than combat, what purpose does a Zentraedi have?"

"The Miclone female speaks of culture," said Bodolze. "This is secret lore, and no other Zentraedi must hear of it. Do you understand?"

"Of course."

"Millenia ago, we lived as these Miclones did. Males and females living together, in a society."

"Sound repulsive," muttered Vwritlai.

"Indeed. We evolved past that, to become what we are today." Bodolze turned back to the Humans. "We are now greater than we were, as culture is a distraction. There is nothing that it offers us now."

"Really." Ranma's voice was flat. "So all you have is battle?"

"Yes." Bodolze nodded. "There is nothing else for us."

"We have given you much information," said Exedol. "Perhaps it is time that you gave us some."

"Only fair, I suppose." Ranma shrugged. "Whaddaya want to know?"

"One of our recon ships intercepted communications from your vessel that did not appear to be military. In fact, you were one of the subjects."

Ranma laughed. "Oh, don't tell me you picked up the pageant?"

"Is that the designation for this event?" Exedol touched a control, and a display screen sprang to life. It showed Ranma in her swimsuit, strutting her stuff on the stage. "This garment does not appear to serve any sensible purpose."

"Ya got that right," muttered Ranma.

"What is the purpose of this ceremony?"

"Hmmm..." Ranma frowned. "How best to put this? It's to raise morale."

Bodolze frowned. "I do not understand how such a ceremony could raise morale."

"It's all about the women," supplied Kakizaki. "To see which of them was the most attractive."

"They are all warriors?" asked Vwritlai.

"No," said Max. He frowned, examining the video carefully. "I see Lieutenant Hayase, Minmay...no-one else I recognize. Only the Lieutenant, here, and another of those girls, were soldiers."

"If they are not warriors, then what are they?"

"Civilians, for the most part," said Kakizaki.

The Zentraedi stared at him blankly.

"Right. Military society." Kakizaki scratched the back of his head.

"In what way does such a ceremony improve morale?"

"You guys wouldn't get it," said Max. "After all, a segregated society wouldn't understand the effect that the opposite gender has on our people."

"Why is this so?" Exedol frowned. "Surely there is no activity that a male and a female can engage in that cannot be equalled between two of the same gender?"

Kakizaki laughed. "Guess you guys really are dense! I dunno about these two, but I know that I'd never willingly kiss another guy!"

"'Kiss'? What is 'kiss'?"

"Kakizaki..." Ranma rolled her eyes. "I am going to kill you."

"What'd I do?"

Bodolze leaned forward. "Show me this 'kiss'."

Kakizaki blinked. "Oh. Sorry, Lieutenant."

* * *

"Signal doppler is less than point-oh-one. He's right behind that door."

Ichigyo nodded. "Well, we've gotten this far on sheer brass...might as well continue to rely on it." He reached forward with the Battroid's hand and opened the hatch.

Beyond were three of the Giants, including the metal-faced one that had taken Ranma's Valkyrie apart. All three of them looked stunned, faces twisted in revulsion. Misa glanced down at the table, and felt a bit nauseated herself.

Ranma and Max were locked in a kiss.

"Get them, now!"

Ichigyo worked the flight sticks, and the Valkyrie lunged forward, grabbing the three pilots. One of the aliens looked up and yelled something. Ichigyo turned the head laser on him, lashing it across his face, then kicked another. Then turned and ran.

Alarms sounded and bulkheads started closing. Ichigyo shifted the Valkyrie to Gerwalk - speed was far more important than stealth at this point. The uniform ripped, the long coat trailing behind the reconfigured Valkyrie like a a cloak.

"We're running low on power, Ma'am. We're gonna have to ditch this bird before long."

"Just get us to the lift!"

"Yes, Ma'am."

He slid sideways into the lift, then popped the canopy. "Ranma! Get the door control."

"On it." Ranma jumped up and smacked a button. The door slid closed, and the lift started to descend.

"Okay, I've got perhaps sixty seconds' worth of power." Ichigyo adjusted the controls. "I'm going to set the engines to overload. They aren't getting this bird."

"As soon as the lift stops, we make a break for it."

Ichigyo nodded. "Got it."

Ranma knelt at the cockpit. "I was afraid that you guys were dead."

"We managed to avoid capture, thanks to Lieutenant Ichigyo," said Misa. "We'd come to rescue you, but it seems that you were hardly being tortured." Her voice was a bit frosty.

"Hey, it wasn't my fault. I mean, you think I'd be caught suckin' face with Max unless there was a good reason?"

Misa allowed herself to calm down. "No. It's so hard to stay mad at you, you know."

Ranma grinned. "Of course it is." She sobered up. "So what's our next move?"

"When the lift stops, we leave on foot. Hikaru is going to blow the Valkyrie."

"So we gotta find a ship that's going back to Earth."

"Actually," said Ichigyo, "I think we've found one. They were taking on supplies when we saw it."

"Doesn't mean Earth," said Ranma. "But any other ship would be an improvement. They won't know we're there."

* * *

Ranma raised a hand. "Hold on. We got someone comin' this way." She stepped back around the corner and crouched. "One female, with a push cart of some sort."

Misa carefully looked around the corner. "A female!"

"Yeah...the little guy, Exedol, said that they were special forces or somethin'." Ranma frowned. "That one had an insignia, same as the one on Vwritlai. She's a fleet commander."

"If that was in fact a rank marking."

Ranma shrugged. "Best guess is that it was."

"Why would a fleet commander have a push cart?"

"Dunno." Ranma shrugged again. "Maybe we should ask her?"

"Funny." Misa paused. "There are three people on the cart. People our size. But one has purple hair, and they're dressed badly...shabbily. One of them is speaking to her--" Misa gaped. "They must be aliens. Human-sized Zentraedi."

"Makes sense. We found Human-sized compartments on _Macross_, after all. But if they're dressed poorly...They must not be equipped for small people here." Ranma frowned in concentration. "So those three must have been full-sized originally, and the Zentraedi have a way of shrinkin' them."

Misa shook her head. "That makes no sense. You get that all from their clothing?"

Ranma chuckled. "I'm an expert on changin' size and shape, remember?"

"Good point."

Ranma risked another glance. "Okay, we're clear. Let's go."

* * *

"I could eat a horse," complained Kakizaki.

"I think that you'll discover that our emergency rations taste much the same," quipped Misa. "Here." She handed him a small packet. "We don't have a lot of these, so make them count."

"At the risk of soundin' dense," said Ranma, "why don't we just raid the Zentraedi food supply?"

"We don't know if their biochemistry is compatible with ours," pointed out Misa. "Even if it's close, we might discover that, say, arsenic is an important nutrient, or just a tasty spice."

"Oh." Ranma shrugged, and accepted her ration bar. "I'll stick to martial arts, and leave the heavy thinkin' to those equipped for it."

"Fair enough." Misa looked around the compartment. "How long have we been in fold?"

Ranma glanced down at her watch. "This thing can't keep track of time very well while in fold. But I'd say that we have about half a day, real time, left."

"_If_ this ship is going to Earth."

"Yeah."

"So maybe ten minutes." Misa nodded. "On the chance that we _are_ going to Earth, I want to get this thing started. Jenius, you have the flight controls."

"Yes, Ma'am." Max crammed the rest of his ration bar into his mouth, and stepped up to the battle pod's flight systems.

"Kakizaki, power systems. Ichigyo, sensors. Saotome, you've got the guns."

"Aye aye, Ma'am."

The pod shifted abruptly, and the colours of their surroundings snapped back into their proper places.

"Defold!"

"Right on schedule," said Ranma.

"Jenius, go!"

Max threw a lever, and the commandeered Battle Pod rose to its feet.

"Ranma, make us a door."

Ranma squeezed the trigger, and the particle cannons spat blue lightning. The metal of the hatch exploded, its atoms suddenly acquiring a high negative charge and repulsing each other violently. The bay decompressed, blowing their Pod and several others into space.

"Ichigyo. Anything on the radio?"

"Nothing yet, Ma'am." Hikaru fiddled with the radio. "But our military channels are encrypted. Trying civilian frequencies..."

Music broke over the speakers. Ranma blinked.

"That sounds like Minmay!"

"Yeah, I think you're right." Hikaru nodded. "We're back in Earth space."

"Quick, Hikaru!" It was a sign of Misa's excitement that her usual military decorum was chucked. "Start transmitting, before some Valkyrie pilot decides we'd look good painted under his canopy."

"This is Flight Lieutenant Ichigyo, Vermillion Squadron. Hold fire. I repeat, hold fire. We are in a commandeered Zentraedi Battle Pod."

"Home...I can't believe it," said Misa, her voice thick with emotion.

"I can," said Ranma. "Never doubted it. As soon as I saw you were still alive, I knew you'd get us back home."

* * *

A dozen Valkyries stood at attention along two walls of the flight bay, and three times that many pilots stood ready to welcome back their missing comrades.

"You've all been through a lot," said Global, "and I respect that, but your experience has no doubt given you much data on the aliens. Formal debrief will be in two hours, which should give you time to clean up and get a decent meal."

"Thank you, Sir," said Misa.

"No, thank _you_, Commander."

Misa blinked. "Sir...?"

"You've been my acting Executive Officer for many months now. The only reason that you've not been made permanent XO is because it's a Commander's berth." Global smiled. "So I had to either promote you, or replace you. I trust you prefer promotion?"

"Yes, Sir. But my board--"

"Soon enough, Commander. This is a field brevet, but I trust that your board will confirm it." Global looked over to the four pilots. "I'm afraid that I cannot similarly reward your companions; most of them were too recently promoted. But we have other ways to reward them."

* * *


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Bittersweet Homecoming

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Sixteen: Bittersweet Homecoming**

**April 28th, 2010**

_Science and Technology Report_

_Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_The Battle Pod_

_Most numerous of the enemy forces that we have faced to date, the Battle Pod - this being a tentative designation until we learn its proper name - is a surprisingly well-designed machine. Its controls are very simple, allowing any person to learn its operation in a very short time. Of course, it is required for the operator to be twenty meters tall in order to use it. Testing of captured Battle Pods required the assistance of a Valkyrie pilot, in his machine._

_Despite its design elements, it remains a very fragile machine, however. The designers of the weapon system did not appear to place a high value on the survival of its operator. Its armour is fifty centimeters equivelant in thickness across the main belt, which will deflect small arms, but does not stand up well to fire from a GU-11. Certain points - such as the viewport at the front of the robot - are much more vulnerable to attack._

_Many of the components in the machine appear to be shockingly primitive. Its fusion reactor is somewhat inferior to our own designs, and the computer support is nearly non-existent. However, the weapon systems are considerably better than our own. The unit carries two rear-facing turreted lasers - all but identical to the ones used on the Valkyrie - as well as four forward-mounted weapons. The lower weapons are chemical slug-throwers, firing inert 13.3mm projectiles. Each gun carries five hundred rounds, and can fire twenty-five rounds per second. The upper weapons are neutral particle beam cannon, of limited use in atmosphere but very potent in vacuum. Each weapon carries sufficient ballast for five thousand shots, and can fire thirty-six shots per second._

_The one primary advantage that the enemy has with the Battle Pod, however, is that they have a lot of them. Based on battlefield reports, the enemy has fielded as many as a thousand Pods in one sortie; this is five times the number of Valkyries that we have in total. There is no reason to suspect that a thousand is the most that they_ can _field._

* * *

"You know," said Ranma conversationally, "I don't think these guys want to let us through."

He yanked the G lever, and his new VF-1J reconfigured and spun on the spot. The GU-11 came up, and he dispatched three Battle Pods with precision bursts. Another shift back to fighter, and he rocketed towards the next knot of bandits.

"Does seem that way, doesn't it?" Roy was a fair distance away, leading the Rogers' First Flight against a knot of Fighter Pods that were screening an enemy destroyer. "Wonder why?"

There had been some shuffling of the TO&E since Ranma's capture and subsequent return. Roy was now CAG, as there were finally enough Squadrons to call them an Air Group. Jackson had been called back to the Skull to take Ranma's place as Flight Leader Charlie. But upon Ranma's return, Jackson had been pulled to some staff position, and Ranma had his old job back.

Herding nuggets.

_Fun._

Ranma glanced over his shoulder, reconfigured again, and brought the rifle up to his Battroid's shoulder. One burst smashed through the porthole on the front of a Battle Pod that was sneaking up on one of his pilots. "Craig, watch six."

"Thanks, Sir."

"As I was sayin', Roy, there's gotta be some reason why they don't want us to reach the planet."

"Heads up. Here comes one of those new models."

Ranma cursed. He'd faced off with the powered armour three times since his return. The top brass had refused, at first, to believe that the stupidly agile and heavily armed machine was restricted to the Zentraedi female troops. But between Ranma's report of having faced them before, and from having learned that the Zentraedi were rigidly segregated, they'd finally conceded the point.

And Ranma had learned why the Zentraedi women were their Special Forces units. They were _good_.

He shifted back to Gerwalk mode, locked the target up, and pickled off two Diamondback missiles. The enemy pilot shot them down with short controlled bursts from the forearm cannons, but did not return fire. Ranma shifted to Battroid again, cannon readied, but to his surprise, the powered armour unit ignored him. He glanced down at his instruments, and noted heavy communications traffic on the Zentraedi frequencies. They hadn't decoded their encryption yet, but it shortly became obvious what was happening as the Battle Pods broke off and rocketed towards their ships.

"What the hell...?"

Ranma approached the armour cautiously, weapons still ready, and flipped on his head-mounted camera. The camera had a good telescopic lens, which he played over the armour. _Maybe the intel weenies can get something from this..._ He noted several decorations on the unit's plastron, including a rank marking which they had managed to decipher in the past.

"Skull Lead, this is Thirteen. That powered armour unit is just sittin' there."

"All the male units are breaking off...Yours must just be the messenger."

"Yeah, but she's a high-ranking officer. Probably one of their aces. Why would they send one of their top pilots to herd a bunch of troops back home?"

* * *

Captain Global was, for the most part, willing to obey orders. At his rank, there were not many who could issue him orders, as even those people as much as two pay grades above him were not technically in his line of command. Not since the death of Commodore Tremblay, and the destruction of eight out of the ten ships of SDB-01.

But like any other high-ranking officer, he retained the right to _question_ said orders. His most recent orders were ones that he felt he had to question.

He'd argued about the defense of Earth. And had been told that it was not his job.

He'd protested on the grounds that _Macross'_ civilian population had not enlisted, and were put into harm's way by his orders. And had been told that they'd already been declared officially dead.

He'd made mention of the critical fact that Commander Hayase had brought to him, that the enemy forces exceeded four million ships, even the smallest of which was larger than _Macross_. And had been informed that Commander Hayase was mistaken.

He'd even gone so far as to question the moral courage of the Admiral giving him the orders. And had been told that he was being insubordinate.

Well, maybe so. But by thunder, he was also _right_.

But he had his orders. Orders that were given without a scrap of humanity behind them - God almighty, the _Zentraedi_ showed more concern for their own people! It really left him with no choice. He'd informed the bridge crew, and much to his nonsurprise, they'd elected to back him on this.

And so, for the first time in nine months, _Macross_ returned to the surface of the world she'd left. Admirals screamed at him over the airwaves, but he paid them no heed. Re-entry left a burning trail behind the ship as she made two orbits to cut her speed. UN Air Force fighters scattered like leaves rather than intercept her, and Carrier Battle Group 65 scrambled out of the way of her projected touchdown point. She fell through the atmosphere like a shooting star, and splashed down in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

* * *

"You'd think they'd at least give us a day to recover from the last nine months," groused Misa. She stalked about her quarters, grabbing articles of clothing, documents, reports, and various other items, jamming them into her duffel.

"I'm just amazed they're letting anyone off this boat," said Ranma. She was kicked back on Misa's sofa, feet on her coffee table. "Sure I can't help?"

"Thanks again for offering, Ranma, but most of the documents I need to take are above your security level."

"Even though many of them involve events I was in the middle of."

"Even so." Misa chuckled. But her momentary good humour faded as fast as it had come. "At least you're getting something closer to a real vacation."

"What, takin' Minmay to Yokohama?" She chuckled. "That is gonna be a mess. On more than one front. Ichigyo's pissed at me, 'cause Minmay asked me to drive an' not him. I gotta spend pretty much the entire week in female form, partly so Minmay's folks don't freak, but mostly because I don't want the instruments in the plane to get soaked. You know how she is."

"Yeah," laughed Misa.

"And I hadda get checked out on that little fan jet they gave her--correction, that they gave you, and you gave to her." Ranma scowled. "I understand you givin' her the recording rights, the movie rights, all that crap, but why didn't you at least keep the jet?"

"I don't have a pilot's license."

"And she does?"

"Perhaps you should have tried harder to win the contest," said Misa with a grin. "Then the jet would be yours."

Ranma snorted. "I'll stick with the Valkyrie, thanks."

"Try suggesting to Minmay that she take flight instruction," suggested Misa. "She's only sixteen, but there's no age limit on a private license. Given her hectic schedule, though, she might only have an hour a week to devote to flying."

Ranma rubbed her lips with a finger. "Good idea. She once told me she was interested in flyin'."

"Think she's got talent there?"

She shook her head. "Nope. But like I told her. Practise and brains. She's not stupid, just young and flighty. There is one problem, though."

"What's that?"

"No ground school on _Macross_, save for one: The military one."

* * *

The little fan jet rocketed off the deck of the _Daedalus_, and Ranma slowly brought the nose up and started his climb. She checked the instruments, saw the gear lights shift to indicate wheels up, and advanced the throttles further. The engine roared, and she grinned at the surge of power.

"For such a small plane, this thing packs some pretty good power."

"Yeah," said Minmay. "It sure is exciting. And I'll get to see Mom and Dad again, and show you my home city--"

"Hey, Minmay. If it's all right with you, I'd like to stop and see my Mom. She's in Yokohama as well."

"Really?" She blinked. "Are you from there as well?"

"No," she chuckled. "I'm from Nerima, but my mom relocated to Yokohama when she started her company. I haven't seen her in fifteen years."

"Oh." Minmay nodded. "I'd love to meet her, too."

"No problem," said Ranma. "But I gotta warn you...she's a little old-fashioned. So no splashin' me with water while we're there. Mom doesn't really like my girl form. An' I'd really appreciate it if you said nothin' at all about me bein' in the pageant. Mom just wouldn't understand."

"Okay, I promise."

"Thanks, Minmay." She paused. "Did you notice that you've got flight controls in the back there?"

"Yes." Minmay nodded. "I didn't want to touch them, since you're driving."

She hesitated, then said, "You wanna give it a try?"

Minmay gasped. "Are you sure that's safe?"

"I'm pretty sure I can recover the airplane, no matter what you try. Just lemme put on some more altitude, and we'll let you try the plane."

* * *

"I'm really sorry, Ranma." It was perhaps the fifteenth time she'd apologized.

Ranma rolled her eyes. "Look, Minmay, it's all right. Really. I recovered the airplane, even though it cost us two kilometers of altitude. And it was the first time you touched a stick. I ain't surprised you bobbled the plane."

"I guess I have no talent after all," she said.

"Like I said before, we can get you the trainin' to compensate for lack of talent. You'll never be a fighter pilot," admitted Ranma, "but at least you'll be able to fly that little plane."

"Really?"

"Yep. You listened to what I told you, and you grasped the concepts readily enough. You've got the drive, and the willingness to learn. You can do it."

The teenager launched herself towards her and hugged her.

"Yikes!" Ranma laughed. "I thought the Amazons had a patent on that sorta glomp."

"Will you teach me to fly?"

Ranma shook her head. "Love to. But I gotta fly combat, and that means I don't have a lot of spare time. But I can pull some strings, can set you up with an instructor for ground school, and by the time you finish that, I can probably get some free time to fly with you on your dual hours."

"Thanks!"

"But I gotta warn you," continued Ranma. "Ground school is tough. They're gonna hit you with a tonne of homework, there's gonna be a lot of math, and the pass rate is ninety percent."

"You mean only ten percent fail?"

"No," she said. "I mean you gotta score at least a ninety on each and every test, or you fail."

"Oh." Minmay looked up. "We're nearly there."

Ranma grabbed her wallet and flipped through it. "Your folks accept UN script?"

"Yes," said Minmay. "But I doubt you'll have to pay for anything."

Ranma grinned. "Even the way I eat?" She looked up. "Golden Dragon. Your family got a thing for dragons?"

"Of course!" She opened the door, the bell above it jingling merrily. "Hello?"

There was only one person inside, a Japanese woman, perhaps a few years older than Ranma. "Welcome to--" Her jaw dropped. "Minmay!"

Ranma hung back, to allow Minmay the limelight. She was fussed over by her father and mother, and her cousin - Saochin's son, apparently. But soon enough, her mother turned to Ranma. "And who is this?"

"Saotome Ranma," supplied Minmay. "She's a fighter pilot, and a former Marine, and she's got a lot of decorations - she saved Tokyo! And she's considered the best pilot aboard _Macross_."

Her cousin snorted. "What's so great about being a murderer?"

Ranma scowled. She opened her mouth, with full intention of shutting his, but Minmay beat her to the punch.

"Kaifunn, that's not very nice. Ranma has saved many lives--"

"And how many has she ended?"

That was more than enough. Ranma stepped forward. "I take it that you have a problem with the military, Ling?"

The man nodded. "War produces nothing but devastation and death. 'Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.'"

"Quotin' Asimov? Well, I happen to agree with that."

This seemed to surprise Ling. But before he could respond, Ranma continued.

"You see, I joined the JSDF, and then the UN Forces, because somebody decided that they could use violence to get what they want, and I lost someone very close to me. We don't start wars. We try to stop them from happenin', and if they do, we try to keep it from hurtin' innocents. Like you."

"If proper diplomacy is involved, war can always be avoided."

She smirked. "You wanna trade quotes? Try this one: 'War is the continuation of diplomacy by non-diplomatic means.'"

Ling blinked.

"Anyway," said Ranma, "I don't wanna cause any friction at a homecomin'. So how about we drop the verbal fencing and agree to disagree?"

Ling nodded slowly. "Fair enough."

* * *

"This is the address," Ranma said. He glanced down at the scrap of paper. "I doubt that Nabs would give me the wrong one, and I know she said the office was part of the building, but..."

"It's huge!" gushed Minmay.

"Yeah." Ranma hesitated, then pressed the intercom button on the gate.

"_Yes?_" An unfamiliar voice, probably one of Tennasaono's security girls.

"Saotome Ranma, to see Saotome Nodoka."

The gate buzzed, and swung open. Ranma and Minmay started up the walkway. It was perhaps a hundred meters from the gate to the front doors. "I know that Mom and Nabs were makin' a killing in this business, but I didn't expect--"

"Ranma!" Nodoka was rushing towards them from the house. "I thought you were dead!"

"Mom?" Ranma blinked; was it really her? "You look--well, good. Great, even."

Jarring was a closer word. Gone were the kimono and sword; Nodoka was wearing a dark green pantsuit with a white collared shirt. He could not ever recall her wearing anything but formal garb before. Her hair was unbound, and fell past her shoulders. And her resemblance to Ranma's female form was more startling than ever.

Nodoka hugged her son, tears threatening in her eyes. "Oh, I thought I'd lost you!"

"Mom, it was just a deployment - a little irregular, but--"

"They told us that terrorists had bombed South Ataria Island. That everyone there was dead."

"They did?" Ranma blinked. He put his hands on her shoulder, and gently pushed her back a bit. "You're certain of that? They didn't say anything about the war?"

"What war?"

"They didn't even mention the aliens?"

"Aliens?" Nodoka looked more confused by the moment. "Are you feeling all right, son?"

"Yeah, except that I got a bad feelin' about what's been goin' on on Earth."

Nodoka noticed Minmay for the first time. "And who is this?"

"Ling Minmay." She bowed. "I'm a friend of Ranma's, from _Macross_."

"Oh." Nodoka looked her up and down. "Well, I'm most pleased to meet you." She glanced back to Ranma. "And I'm glad to see you've moved on, Ranma."

"Mom--"

"Minmay, dear, I'd be happy if you called me 'Mother.'"

"Mom!" Ranma raised a hand. "I know this is odd comin' from me, but I ain't engaged to her or anythin'."

"No?" Nodoka looked surprised. "And I thought that my manly son would have brought home the woman that he loved."

"She had to go to Alaska," said Ranma. "Military stuff."

"So there is someone!"

"Yeah, and I think you'd like her," chuckled Ranma. "But Minmay's a good friend, who I was givin' a lift to visit family. And since I was in the neighbourhood..."

"Please, both of you. Come in." Nodoka gestured towards the house. "We can get caught up."

"Yeah, good idea." Ranma frowned. "I wanna hear more about this supposed terrorist attack."

* * *

"_It is quite simple,_" stated Admiral Hayase. "_If we told the people of Earth that we were involved in a war with aliens, there would have been mass panic._"

Misa stared at his face on the massive screen, several feet over their heads. "Father--"

"_Despite our relation, Commander Hayase,_" interrupted the Admiral, "_it would be more appropriate if you referred to me by rank. This is a formal debriefing._"

"Yes, Sir." Hayase drew in a breath. "If the Zentraedi launch an attack on Earth, we will be powerless to stop them."

"_Which makes it irrelevant if they know or not,_" pointed out another member of the board. "_So why borrow trouble?_"

"Because it's their right to know," snapped Misa.

"_Nonsense,_" objected Admiral Hayase. "_That sort of left-wing idealism is what got us into the mess with the Anti-Unification rebels._"

"Admiral, I--"

"_If people had the ability to make informed decisions, then we could welcome their input. But people think with their stomachs, not their backbones. The interests of a civilian rarely extend past their own needs._"

"I think," said Global, "that several of those civilians might surprise you."

"_Yes, but as a whole, they don't. That is why we have a military, Colonel._" Hayase glanced back to his daughter. "_So that we can protect them, so they don't even have to_ think _about the dangers lurking outside our borders._"

Misa winced; the Admiral was all but quoting one of the three central maxims of the UN Armed Forces. Which meant that the other two were probably shortly to appear.

"_As to whether or not they have a_ right _to know, it seems to me that if they'd put on the uniform, shown that they were willing to serve their planet, they'd have that information. They'd have their say. Because the only_ rights _they have are the ones that they can take for themselves, or that we, their chosen representatives, choose to enshrine._"

_Yep. There they are._

Global shifted in his seat. "That's all well and good, but the simple fact is that these civilians have made no choice to be physically transported far from home and family. This is the sort of thing that our military is there to _prevent_. When shall we be returning them home?"

"_I'm sorry, Colonel,_" said Hayase. "_I thought you understood. These people_ cannot _be returned. They have already been declared officially dead._"

Global was on his feet, an incredulous expression on his face. "You're joking!"

"_No, Colonel, I assure you that we are not._" This came from the Admiral on the left, whose name Misa hadn't bothered remembering. "_We had to tell people_ something_, after all, and if we send these people home, they will only start the very panic we are trying to avoid._"

Global was seething. "So to protect your own reputations, you are sending sixty thousand civilians to their deaths."

"_You are forgetting your place, Colonel._" Hayase's voice was waspish. "_This completes this phase of the debriefing. We will contact you when we have your new orders._"

The screens darkened, and Global cursed mightily in Italian.

"'Colonel'." Misa spat the word. "They should call you Captain. You still have command of _Macross_, so you still have the title. So much for my father's love of naval tradition." She glanced over at him. "Well, Skipper?"

"As I feared. These paranoid idiots are not going to permit the survivors to leave the ship, and those survivors are going to riot when they hear the news. They're close enough to home that they could almost _walk_ the rest of the way."

"So what do we tell them?"

Global considered. "We'll have to tell them the truth. Anything less would be an insult."

"If I may, Captain," offered Misa, "I should be the one to tell them. They might take it a little better coming from Miss Macross." Her tone took on an air of disgust with the last two words, and Global chuckled.

"They just might, yes."

* * *

"So lemme see if I got all this straight," said Ranma. "They told ya that me an' everyone else on the island was killed in a terrorist attack, and they didn't tell you at all about the war?"

Nodoka nodded, her eyes still wide at the notion that her son and her business partner were still alive. "But you're telling me that a fleet of alien warships - four million or so - is hovering just outside our solar system, waiting to strike?"

Ranma chuckled. "Not really 'just outside', and I'm not certain they're really interested in killin' us. They just want _Macross_."

"Oh, dear." Nodoka paused. "Do you think that...if we just give them the ship, they might go away?"

"I dunno," admitted Ranma. "Apparently, they've got some religious taboo against dealin' with us, even fightin' us, but that hasn't slowed them down yet. And their leader, Bodolze, said that we were a contamination." He paused. "They might try to wipe us out."

"Oh." Nodoka frowned, and asked, "Do you think we could beat them?"

"There's four million of their ships, and most of 'em are big," said Ranma. "If we can find out _why_ they're afraid of us, maybe we can use that against them. But in a straight-up fight..." He shook his head. "No way in hell."

Minmay turned to say something, but whatever it was was lost when her sleeve caught the water glass on the table. It tumbled with uncanny accuracy, and landed in Ranma's lap.

"Oh no!" Minmay was aghast. "I'm so sorry, Ranma! I was trying really really hard not to--" She turned to Nodoka. "I'm really sorry, Mrs. Saotome. Ranma told me you don't like to see--"

Nodoka giggled. "Don't worry, dear. True, I'd rather see my manly son, but I've sort of accepted that occasionally, he's my beautiful daughter."

Ranma scowled, and wrung out her uniform shirt. "Doesn't mean I like it at all." She glanced up at Minmay, and chuckled at the expression on the teenager's face. "You didn't do it on purpose, Minmay. For a switch. Don't panic."

"Does she normally do it on purpose?"

"Yeah, Mom, she does." Ranma chuckled. "First time she saw me, I was in girl form, and I had my mess dress uniform on. So I had all my ribbons on, and she picked them out, and decided that I must be cooler than I actually am--"

"Titanium Medal of Valour, with cluster for repeat decoration," pointed out Minmay. "Fighter wings, Ace's Ribbon, Rifle Marksmanship, Purple Heart, and let's not forget, you just got a Silver Star. I think that proves your cooler than you think you are."

Nodoka had stars in her eyes. "Oh, my manly son!"

"_Anyway_, she sorta latched onto me as a role model, and when she found out I was really a guy, she took to dousin' me every time she saw me."

"I see." Nodoka turned to Minmay. "Will you be joining the armed forces as well, Minmay?"

"I dunno," admitted Minmay. "Ranma said she'd teach me how to fly, but it's still two years away before I can sign up. Since she's arranging a military person to teach me the basics, they'll probably want me in the forces."

"Well, you could easily choose a worse role model than my son," said Nodoka. "But tell me: This girl that he's dating."

"Mom," said Ranma warningly.

"What's she like?"

Minmay grinned. "She's the second-in-command of our ship, and she won the beauty pageant."

The stars returned to Nodoka's eyes, and Ranma's forehead banged onto the table top.

* * *

**May 5th, 2010**

"Gunsight One, this is Flight Three One Three Five, civilian, requesting permission to enter the pattern."

"_Three One Three Five, Gunsight Two. Gunsight One is off the deck. Please state your authorization code._"

"Sierra Romeo Seven Five."

"_Ranma!_" Claudia's voice took on a more cheerful note. "_About time you got back. You're cleared to approach_ Prometheus_. You are number six in the queue. Descend to Angels Six, squawk seven zero zero six for ATC._"

"Roger, Gunsight Two."

"_And as soon as you park that toy, report to Commander Hayase, pronto."_

"Got it." Ranma clicked off the microphone. "All right, kids, maybe fifteen minutes before we're on final."

"And about time," groused Kaifunn.

"Buddy, you're just lucky I gave you a lift," said Ranma. "Now, I want both of you to grab the back of my seat with both hands."

"Is the landing going to be that rough?" asked Minmay.

"No. But carrier landings are a heck of a lot harder than airstrip landings, and I don't want to chance either of you accidentally bumping the stick." She clicked the mic. "_Prometheus_ ATC, Three One Three Five. I have no hook, and need a full deck rollout."

"_Acknowledged, Three Five._"

* * *

Ranma touched the button, heard the sound of the announcer past the hatch. There was a pause, and the hatch slid open.

He avoided the impulse to take a step back. Misa looked horrible. Her eyes were red from tears, and her hair was in disarray.

"What happened?" Ranma felt a bit unsure of himself. "Was the debrief that bad?"

"Please...come in." Misa stepped back, and Ranma walked into the cabin. He noted several pictures of her father, ones that normally lived on the bulkhead, sitting on her coffee table. Also, there was a piece of paper, with UN Spacy letterhead, the sort that usually arrived with official orders on it.

Misa walked mechanically into the kitchenette. "Tea?"

"Sure."

"You're right. The debriefing was rather unpleasant."

"How so?"

"Well, my father decided that everyone aboard _Macross_ is officially dead."

"I heard about that before I left," admitted Ranma. "They'd already told the Captain."

"Yes, but even after we landed--I mean, there's no way to conceal the fact that we came back. We overflew San Francisco, Honolulu...Why are they still keeping up the act?"

"My mom thought I was dead, as well." Ranma leaned back into the sofa, and frowned. "Terrorist attack, they said."

"Yes." Misa nodded. "It might have made sense to declare us all dead when we vanished without a trace. But after we come back--!"

Ranma nodded. "Yeah."

"And to top it all off..." Misa waved towards the official document. "My father has cut orders to have me recalled from Macross and transferred to the Alaska base."

"_What?_" Ranma leaned forward. "Can he do that? Never mind, silly question."

"He can do it," admitted Misa. "But if Captain Global objects, and I object, we can stall it until _Macross_ is underway again. At which point only Captain Global could order me off the ship."

"Well, that's good, at least." Ranma sighed. "Jeez...Your dad seems to make it a hobby to put the worst possible face on stuff."

"Well, he did allow you and I to keep writing to each other," laughed Misa. "Of course, he wasn't at all happy to hear that you and I were dating."

"My mom was," said Ranma. He snorted. "Minmay had to go and open her big mouth."

"Is it a bad thing that your mother knows?" Misa's voice turned a touch frosty.

"Just that she'll assume that we're gettin' married any second now, or else we _should_ be."

"Oh." She giggled. "A bit old-fashioned, I think you called her once."

"Yeah."

Misa stepped back out of the kitchenette, and set a cup of tea on the coffee table. "He also sent me a personal letter. It said that I was 'obviously under several bad influences' on this ship - meaning you and the Captain - and that I 'would be better off in a groundside position.'"

"Right," snorted Ranma.

"I tore that one up," she admitted. "I didn't even finish it."

"That couldn't have been easy."

"Easier than I thought." She paused, to sip her tea. "To tell the truth...it's getting a lot harder to think of him as my father anymore."

"I know that feelin'."

"Ranma..." She turned to face him. "I'm sorry to dump all this on you."

He shrugged. "It's part of my job, right?"

"Job?" She chuckled. "You're XO of the Jolly Rogers, not the ships' shrink."

"But I'm also your boyfriend. Or at least a reasonable hand-drawn facsimile."

Misa smirked.

"So cheerin' you up, bein' there to hear your problems...it's my job. Right?"

"Well, yes." Misa smiled crookedly. "But any kind of friend would help that way. I want some more specific help."

Ranma swallowed nervously. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, first, I want to go out and get drunk." She grinned. "Haven't done that since I finished Basic."

"Sure. The O-Club will be open." Ranma stood up, but Misa shook her head.

"Not the O-Club. I'm not going in uniform. I want...a break from all things military."

"Okay. There's Ben's Pub, down in the city." Ranma glanced down at his uniform. "I'll have to stop at my cabin for some civvies."

"Sounds like a plan," said Misa. She started unbuttoning her jacket. "Let me get changed, and then we'll duck over to your cabin."

"You said, 'first'. What about after we're both plastered?"

Misa glanced over her shoulder. "After that...we'll come back here and you can help me sleep it off."

* * *


	18. Chapter Seventeen: A Night On The Town

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Seventeen: A Night On The Town**

**May 5th, 2010**

_Science and Technology Report_

_Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_Valkyrie Weapons Systems_

_The VF-1 series of variable fighters carry a formidable array of weaponry. Aside from the built-in ROV-6 and ROV-18 laser cannon, and the GU-11 gun pod, the Valkyrie is capable of carrying underwing stores. It has six firm points, two each per wing and two on the wing glove._

_The carrying capacity of each underwing point is 720 kilograms, and the conformal wing glove points can carry 825 kilograms. Underwing points may carry cross-mounts, allowing for two or three weapons per point, but the wing glove points may not do so. Maximum takeoff weight is 23,915 kilograms, leaving approximately 3,400 kilograms for payload._

_Three missiles are typically carried by the VF-1: The GA-23 Diamondback, the GA-31 Jackhammer, and the GS-11 Coral Snake. The GA-23 Diamondback is 220 kilograms with a 144mm diameter, and each underwing station can carry three. The wing glove points can carry one each. It is a fire-and-forget radar-homing missile, carrying 23 kilograms of high-explosive in an annular blast fragmentation warhead. A backup infrared-homing system is built in, but due to targeting cone issues, is not very accurate; it is used mostly in the event that the onboard radar transmitter - which is only 35 watts - is jammed. The weapon itself has a powered flight radius of 25 kilometers, and can be programmed before launch for a ballistic arc that will carry it a total of 70 kilometers. In space, of course, its range is effectively unlimited._

_The GA-31 Jackhammer is a 266mm monster of a weapon, available in two flavours, the GA-31A and the GA-31B. The A variant carries a 135 kilogram annular blast fragmentation warhead, while the B variant carries fifteen submunitions, each containing eight kilograms of high explosive. Either variant weighs in at 550 kilograms, so only one can be carried on each of the six firm points. It is inertially guided, and has a terminal laser-guidance option for precision strikes. Maximum range in Earth atmosphere is 206 kilometers, assuming ballistic arcs._

_The GS-11 Coral Snake is only available for the VF-1J and -1S. It can also be carried by the Heavy Armour Reactive Package, and is normally found on Destroids. At 95 kilograms each, these 106mm missiles carry a 10 kilogram high-explosive armour-piercing (HEAP) warhead. They are beam-riding command line-of-sight (BRCLOS) guided, and as such not very accurate, and their range in atmosphere is only a little over six kilometers. A Valkyrie can carry five of these in a box launcher, with integral guidance system, on each of the four underwing pylons. The mass of the box launcher and guidance package is 702 kilograms._

_Fire control on the VF-1A is limited to six missile launches, with a reset time of fifteen seconds. Because all weapons are fire-and-forget, however, no computer load is required once missiles are launched. Fire control on the VF-1J and -1S is limited to sixteen missiles - more than it can carry. The exception to the above is the GS-11, which can fire one missile per box launcher carried - a maximum of four. Possible weapon loadouts include six GA-31; twelve GA-23; two GA-31 and eight GA-23; four packs of GS-11; two packs of GS-11 and two GA-31; two packs of GS-11 and six GA-23. Brevity codes are Golf One for a GA-31, Golf Two for a GA-23, and Beamrider for a GS-11._

* * *

"You know," said Ranma, "it might be a good idea to get something to eat before we head to the pub."

"The pub has food," argued Misa. "And beer."

"Yeah, but there's a couple of reasons. First, I'm starvin', and pub grub doesn't really fill the space, ya know?"

"I'll give you that one," laughed Misa. "Second?"

"Second, if we go boozin' on empty stomachs, it'll hit us really hard."

"That's the point, isn't it?"

Ranma shook his head. "I ain't got no tolerance for booze. It hits me hard and fast to begin with. So unless I got a full stomach, I'm gonna conk out on you really early."

Misa frowned. "But you must weigh at least twenty more kilos than me, and let's face it, you're in better shape--"

"My bein' in better shape is just the reason it'll hit me so hard," he said. "My body absorbs nutrients faster than yours. I'll sober up quicker, too, but two beer is enough to put me on the floor, unless I've eaten recently."

"Well..."

"And third: It's only seventeen hundred." He smirked. "Just a bit too early for pub crawling."

"Fine!" She laughed. "We'll go try to fill the bottomless pit first."

"Okay. Where shall we go?"

"Like there's anywhere else." She pointed down the street. "The White Dragon."

* * *

"Hello, Ranma. Misa." Ling Feichun, Minmay's aunt, was a slender woman. She wore the red-and-white embroidered tang that was the official uniform of the White Dragon. "The usual today, Ranma?"

"For two."

Misa gaped at him. "Are you nuts? I can't finish what you normally order!"

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm extra hungry. I'll finish what you can't."

"Glutton," she sniffed.

Feichun carefully suppressed her laughter. "Two Saotome Specials, coming up." She glanced over her shoulder. "I'm afraid it may be a bit longer than usual. My niece is a bit distracted today."

"Can't imagine why."

Misa looked over towards the bubble-headed teen. "Who's that fellow with her?"

"My son Kaifunn." Feichun smiled. "Your boyfriend gave him a lift here earlier today, and Minmay's still rather ecstatic."

The young man turned, and Misa felt her heart jump into her chest. Save for the dark hair, the man was a dead ringer for Riber. The same shape of the face, the same eyes, the same bronzed skin. Even the way he stood, his mannerisms, all identical to her long dead boyfriend.

"Yo. Misa."

She blinked, and glanced back to her not-dead boyfriend.

"You wanna take him boozin' tonight?" Ranma was frowning a bit. Misa grinned.

"Jealous?"

"Of him?" Ranma snorted. "He's a peacenik of the worst kind."

It was Misa's turn to frown. "What do you mean?"

"He thinks that the military is the reason that we have war, not the other way around."

She glanced back at the boy, suddenly seeing him in a new light.

"All the time I was at Minmay's parents' place, he was bendin' my ear about how the military is full of warmongers and terrorists, how if there was no armies, there'd be no war."

"Well, he's half right," mused Misa. "Of course, if there were no armies, the first country to raise one would take over the world."

"That's what I told him," said Ranma. "But he insists that if all the countries tried real hard, we could stop all the wars."

Misa snorted. "Tell that to the Zentraedi. Or, for that matter, the Germans in World War Two. It was _illegal_ for them to have an army, but suddenly, they had one."

"Tried explainin' that to him, too. But he wouldn't listen."

"Well, there's no law against stupidity." She dismissed him out of hand. He might be attractive, but...

"Wish there was," snorted Ranma. "Woulda made my life easier. Let's find a table."

They found one, over in the far corner by the windows, as far from the door as you could get and still be on the same wall. Ranma pulled her seat out for her, eliciting a giggle, then dropped into his own.

"Minmay must be very distracted," he commented. "I've been here almost three minutes, and I'm still male."

"Is that why you're wearing that outfit?" She indicated his Chinese silks. "That's the same outfit you wore on the beach at Pearl, isn't it?"

"Not exactly the same," he admitted. "But I buy the same style, because it looks good on either form, and fits reasonably decently either way. Plus, silk dries quickly. Helps when you're a water magnet."

"It does look nice," she said. "Did you pick that up in Yokohama?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "Mom's rolling in credits. She handed me fifty thousand, and told me to go shopping." He reached into one pocket. "She insisted I buy you somethin', too." He pulled out the small box, and set it on the table. "We weren't datin' by the time your last birthday rolled around, and there wasn't really any place to shop anyway. So consider this a belated birthday present."

She picked up the box, hands suddenly trembling, and slowly opened it.

Inside was a pendant, of a silvery metal, on a fine chain. A single green gemstone, the size of her thumbnail, was mounted on the pendant and surrounded by diamond chips. She carefully extracted the necklace. From the weight, it could only be platinum.

"Oh, my God." She looked up. "Ranma, there's no _way_ that this cost only fifty thousand!"

He shrugged. "I had some back pay to spend." He indicated the central stone. "That's Pallasite peridot. Means it came from a meteorite."

"How fitting." She chuckled. "Peridot is my birthstone."

"I know."

"My God..." She examined it again, then held it out to him. "Please...will you put this on for me?"

He nodded, stood, and walked around behind her. One hand swept her hair to the side, and the other worked the clasp. The pendant fell to just below the top of her sweater; in less modest clothing, it would rest at the top of her cleavage. She suddenly wished she'd worn a blouse instead of the sweater; it would showcase this stone nicely.

She jumped to her feet, threw her arms around him and kissed him thoroughly. Cheers and applause rang throughout the audience, but she didn't care. Just now, she was beyond embarrassment.

She finally had to surface for air, and gazed up at him. "Thank you."

He smiled down at her. "You're worth it."

* * *

Kaifunn snorted. "Why don't they get a room."

"Oh, hush."

He glanced down at his cousin. "It's not very proper to do such things in public."

"Considering the amount of money he just spent on her, I don't think she could have avoided it. I was there when he bought that necklace."

"Oh?"

"That young man is a very good friend of mine," pointed out Minmay. "He's saved my life at least once that I can think of, and indirectly probably more than that. He's been unlucky in love - his wife was killed when they'd been married only three weeks, and Misa's the first girl he's really liked since then." Minmay grinned. "And Misa won the beauty pageant. She's officially the most beautiful woman on the ship. And from what I heard, her old boyfriend died some years back, too. So I think they deserve a break."

Kaifunn glanced back at them with a bit more respect. "Well, I suppose you're right."

"Both of them hate this war, hate _all_ wars. His wife and her boyfriend were killed by terrorists. You won't find anyone on this ship more determined to stop this war than those two."

"Really?"

"Yes." Minmay nodded. "They're both very gentle people."

"Perhaps I should have a talk with them." Kaifunn considered. "Yes, if anyone on this ship would see the pointlessness of war, it would be them."

"I don't think that they'd see quite eye to eye with your ideas," said Minmay. She delivered the final barb with care: "They're both high-ranking soldiers."

Unfortunately, it did not have the effect she intended. Kaifunn's respect shifted abruptly and visibly to disdain.

"Well, that explains it." He snorted. "You play with fire, you're going to get burned."

Minmay bristled. "Ranma signed up _because_ his wife was killed! To prevent it from happening again!"

"Ranma?" Kaifunn now looked confused. "Wasn't that the name of that girl that was flying you around?"

Minmay smacked her forehead with her palm, and launched into an explanation of Jushenkyou. _At least this time,_ she mused, _it isn't Ranma having to explain it._

* * *

The remains of their feast lay spread out before them. True to his word, Ranma had eaten about half of Misa's portion, in addition to his own. Again, she wondered how he could eat so much and not gain any weight.

_Probably has an accelerated metabolism...which is why alcohol would affect him so strongly._

He glanced over to the other side of the room. "Looks like Minmay and Kaifunn are still holding court."

She snickered. "It really is a pity she didn't win the competition. With the albums she's recorded, and the movie she's due to start in two weeks, she's becoming the most famous person on this boat."

"Not to mention, then you wouldn't have the title, right?"

"There is that," she replied dryly.

The television, which had been playing one of Minmay's music videos, suddenly crackled, and the face of the news anchor appeared.

"_We apologize for the interruption, but we have an important announcement from the First Officer of the_ Macross_._"

"Oh, hell." Misa dropped her face into her hand.

"_Citizens of Macross City._" Misa's face had replaced the news anchor. "_It is with the deepest regret that I must give you this news. The United Nations Security Council has denied us permission to return you to Earth._"

The crowd in the White Dragon started muttering; the tone in the restaurant turned ugly.

"_We have appealed this decision in the strongest possible methods, but the Security Council has informed us that we have all been declared dead, military and civilian alike, and they are not willing to be made fools of by having us suddenly turn up alive. They have also lied to the people of Earth, telling them nothing of the war or the aliens._"

More noise, but Ranma was grateful to hear that much of it was now being directed against the UN Council.

"_Captain Global is at this time appealing these orders, by addressing each member of the United Nations and seeking refuge for the people of the ship. You did not agree to be on the ship; you have every right to expect to go home; we are working as hard as we can to do so._"

The crowd was now growing more angry by the minute, and Ranma seriously doubted that this was going to blow over.

"_Until we can return you to your homes, I beg of you to be patient, and remember that our first priority is to you, the people of this ship. Thank you._"

The television returned to Minmay's video, but the people in the restaurant ignored it. The volume level rose, and one individual climbed on a table to yell across the crowd.

"We've seen too much! That's why the government won't let us go!" He waved a fist. "The Captain's trying to get us home, but it's the United Nations that has turned against him."

"Most likely," said Kaifunn, "The Captain and the military are behind this plot. The military exists to control the minds of the people--"

"Now wait just a minute." Misa stood up angrily. "The Captain, and the crew of this ship, busted their asses to get these people back to Earth. And we did pretty damned well, too! No alien managed to get into this ship during our trip, despite repeated attempts to do so."

"This _alien threat_ is just a smokescreen, to blind the people," sneered Kaifunn. "If no alien ever got aboard, what proof do you have that they even exist?"

"One crashed through my shop," pointed out one of the crowd.

"My daughter was killed by one," said another. "Don't try to tell me the aliens don't exist."

Kaifunn realized that the crowd was turning against him, and tried another tack. "If these aliens can't even board one ship, they can't be half the threat that the military claims. So the military is scare-mongering, to keep you under control."

"I'd like to point something out." Ranma didn't even rise from his seat, but his voice carried over the crowd, and the people fell silent. "Ling Kaifunn came aboard this ship less than three hours ago. He hasn't been through anything that we have. So he just don't know what's going on."

"Further," added Misa, "the government has lied to the people of Earth, and has told them that we're all dead. It's the military that is arguing for the truth."

"It's our job to protect the civilians," said Ranma. "Even him." He pointed contemptuously towards Ling Kaifunn. "In fact, we'd even protect the Zentraedi, if they asked for it. That's what an army is for. Not to control. To protect. And then only when the people ask us to do so." He snorted. "So don't try to say that the army is tryin' to control the people, because it just ain't so."

"We will get you home," said Misa. "That is my promise to you, as First Officer of _Macross_."

Ling had apparently realized that he'd been cut off at the knees, and withdrew from the arena, scowling. Misa waited until the crowd settled down, then resumed her seat.

"I shoulda just thumped him," groused Ranma.

Misa giggled. "Isn't it more rewarding to beat him on his own turf?"

* * *

Ben's Pub was one of three establishments in Macross City that served alcohol. However, it was definitely the least military. The Arms was run by a former Marine, and was heavily populated by active Marines at most times. The White Dragon also carried alcohol, but couldn't be considered a bar, pub, or any other such title; it was a family restaurant that happened to have beer and wine.

Ben's, on the other hand, was a publican's house straight out of the best part of England. No loud music, no dance floor, no light show; just a large comfortable dining room with tables and a bar. The proprietor often kept a pint of ale in hand and a lit cigarette in his mouth, his wispy white hair combed back and his white shirt buttoned to the last but one. He waved cheerfully as Ranma and Misa walked in. Around the cigarette, he said, "Pint of Guinness, then?"

Ranma laughed. "No thanks, Ben. That stuff is thick enough to chew. Bottle of Ebisu, please."

"Scotch on the rocks, please, Ben," said Misa.

"Scotch." Ben shuddered. "The things some people put in their body."

Ranma chuckled. "You know what this town could use?"

"Oh, no!" Misa raised her hands. "Last time you said anything even remotely like that, I ended up winning a beauty contest."

"A dance club."

Misa blinked. "What on--I thought you hated that sort of place."

"Yeah, but lots of other people don't."

Ben set their drinks on their table, and said, "Can I put in my two cents?"

Ranma shrugged. "Sure."

"I think it's a good idea."

"Really?"

Ben smiled. "It wouldn't pull any of my regulars away, but the younger set don't generally show up here. You two are as young as I normally get, and since you've got the O-Club, you're not as regular as most. So the kids need _something_ to keep themselves harmlessly entertained." To Ben, anyone under thirty was a kid.

Misa frowned, and said, "You might be right. The Terrible Trio have been complaining that there's not a lot for them to do; they'd probably love it."

"And you don't have to get involved," said Ranma.

"Well...let's table the motion for now. I'm not here to work; I'm here to escape work." She knocked back the scotch, set the glass on the table, and shuddered. "Oh, I needed that."

"Another?" Ben grinned.

"Please."

* * *

"Contact, Captain."

Global scowled. "How many?"

"One ship, Sir. It appears to be an assault ship, one of their large combat carrier."

"So six hundred to a thousand assorted combat vehicles," said Global. "Launch Alert Five, and start a track on the target."

"Sir, Pearl reports their intention to launch interceptor missiles against the inbound."

Global's eyebrows raised. "Pearl has Skylord missiles, tipped with conventional explosives only. It might work, but..."

"Missiles are away. I've got a plot on the target; she'll splash down at sixty degrees relative to our axis, twelve kilometers distance."

"Good work, Shammy. Claudia, bring our own anti-aircraft missiles online."

"Aye, Sir."

"Call up the CAP, get them routed towards the enemy. Launch Ready Five, promote the Skull to take their place."

"Sir, Skull's off duty for the next forty-eight hours."

"Recall them," growled Global. "We can't manoeuvre, can't use the main gun...I want our best pilots ready to go at a moment's notice."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

"Commander Hayase, contact the bridge. Skull Squadron, report to Ready Room Six."

Misa cursed, and glanced over to the bar. "Ben, can I use your phone?"

The publican nodded towards an ancient phone hanging near the bar. "Be my guest."

It took her a second to remember how a rotary dial worked, but luckily, _Macross'_ switchboard could handle it.

"Bridge."

"Kim, it's Misa. What's going on?"

"We've got a bandit on a near-intercept course. We need you on the bridge."

"But--" She bit her lip. "Understood. Please inform the Captain that I'm on my way."

She hung up the phone, and bit back a curse. "Ranma--"

"I heard." Ranma set down his pint. "I've only had two pints, which would normally ground me, but..."

"But if you've had two pints, then Focker has had a dozen, and they're still calling us in." She nodded. "Good hunting."

"Thanks."

* * *

The bridge hatch slid aside, and Misa stepped onto the bridge, quickly coming her fingers through her hair to try to get it back into some semblance of order. "What's the situation?"

"Enemy ship was intercepted by sixteen Skylord missiles, but was not apparently damaged," said Shammy. "It touched down eleven kilometers away."

"Several fighter pods and battle pods were launched," said Claudia. "Green and Vermillion are locked in combat with them."

"What about Skull?"

"They're being briefed in at this time."

"Okay." She took her position at her console. "First officer, at station."

"Increase our readiness for Daedalus Maneuver. And I want Spartan and Tomahawk teams ready to repel boarders."

"Aye, Sir."

"New contacts, Sir. Sixty-four enemy humanoid combat robots, female type."

"This we need," muttered Global. More loudly, he asked, "Time to intercept range?"

"Fourteen minutes."

* * *

The deck elevator brought Ranma straight to the firefight.

Battle pods were swarming all over the _Prometheus_, and as he watched, Skull Ten was blotted out before he got a chance to manoeuvre. Ranma cursed, and ignored the catapult, choosing instead to roll straight off the side of the ship. He reconfigured as he cleared the deck, and pulled towards the incoming enemy.

_The Spartans can clear the decks easy enough, but there's no way in hell they can fight those Female Power Armour troopers._

He pulled the nose up, shifting back to fighter mode, and clawed for altitude. His thumb flipped the cannon's fire selector to fifty-round bursts. A Powered Armour suit hesitated long enough for him to center it in his gunsight, and he depressed the trigger. A stream of depleted uranium slugs tore it in half.

That seemed to get their attention. Five of them broke off to pursue him. He shifted to GERWALK again, tumbled the fighter, and pickled off two missiles. One slammed into its target, blowing it from the skies; the other peppered the Armour with fragments, and it broke off, climbing out of the fight.

Then he spotted the Ace.

Unlike the Humans, the Zentraedi Aces did not decorate their rides. Only this one's rank insignia set her apart from her comrades. That, and her skill. She was flying through the worst part of the furball, using forearm and plastron cannons on target after target, both Valkyrie and Battle Pod. He shifted again, back to fighter mode, and arrowed towards her, lasers spitting crimson death.

She whirled as he approached, and launched a spread of missiles at him. He fired the turret laser repeatedly, shooting down missile after missile, and volleyed his remaining payload at her. One got past her point defense, detonating near her robot and hammering it with fragments. But the robot remained airworthy, and dove into the knife fight.

The advantages of a fully humanoid machine in a dogfight became apparent; the Armour could twist and turn with ghastly ease, spraying laser fire at him regardless of its heading. He cursed, shifted to GERWALK, and fired burst after burst from the cannon.

_This is gonna be a long fight,_ he mused.

* * *

"Enemy ship is taking off again."

Global frowned. "Are they leaving?"

"If so, they've got a lot of robots still on the ground," said Shammy. "Lieutenant Saotome seems to be locked in some kind of duel with the leader of the female forces."

"Vermillion Squadron reports all male-type units cleared from the deck, but they're not returning to their ship."

"Sir!" Shammy looked up again. "That ship is on a collision course for _Macross!_"

"Stand by for Daedalus attack!" snapped Global.

"All sections report readiness," said Claudia.

"Enemy ship now six kilometers away."

"Wait for it..." growled Global.

"_Gunsight One, Skull Thirteen. My target has left the area, post-haste. Looks like the rest of the female armour has bugged out as well._"

"Five kilometers."

"Skull, Vermilion, Blue, pursue to two hundred fifty kilometers, then break off if they keep running."

"Four. They're increasing speed!"

"_Gunsight One, Skull Leader. Copy our orders, but Blue Squadron is running on fumes._"

"Three kilometers."

"Blue Leader, Gunsight Two. Land your birds." Claudia glanced over at Misa. "Get ready for it."

"Two."

"Launch Daedalus attack," ordered Global.

Misa smacked a fist down on the commit button. Then blinked. "Captain--"

"Misa!" Claudia reached over to Misa's station and flipped two toggles, turned a dial.

Misa cursed under her breath, and hit the commit button again.

The massive ship _Daedalus_ rose from the water, propelled by the immense engines of the _Macross_. The bow glowed with the energy of the Pinpoint Barrier System, shielding it from the coming abuse. _Macross_ twisted in place, driving _Daedalus_ forward, the prow smashing through the incoming ship. But the angle was bad, the result of the brief delay in the attack, and the prow cut through the top of the Zentraedi warship.

The attack carried on, however, and the landing deck dropped open. Twenty Spartan and Tomahawk combat robots emptied their missile tubes, their gunners cursing at the lack of available targets but unable to override the programming. The missiles spiraled outwards, seeker heads looking for things to destroy. And the only things they found were the sixteen fighter aircraft of Skull and Vermillion Squadrons.

"_Buddy spike! Buddy spike!_ Macross_, abort the missiles!"_

Misa gaped at her screen. "Captain--the--" She broke off, started flipping switches. "Oh, my God." Missiles started self-destructing, but three lived long enough to find a target, reach attack range, and detonate.

"Macross_, Vermillion Leader. I'm hit, going down...oh, shit--"_

The channel fell silent momentarily.

"_Gunsight One, Skull Leader. I have eyes on Vermillion Leader, he punched out and his chute is open. But he's not moving; I think he's injured. Request SAR._"

"Skull Leader, Gunsight Two." Claudia glanced over at Misa. "Search and Rescue will be dispatched. Is Vermillion Leader's beacon running?"

"_Negative, Gunsight Two._"

"Orbit his splashdown point, and we'll vector the choppers to your location."

"_Roger, Gunsight Two._"

Global cleared his throat. Misa turned to face him apprehensively.

"Commander Hayase. I realize you were off duty prior to the emergency." Global pulled out his pipe and started loading it. "I think you should return to your leave. Go home and get some sleep."

"Yes, Sir," said Misa mechanically.

* * *

"It's my fault he's hurt."

Ranma considered how best to answer this, then said, "Yeah. But it was a simple mistake, not you bein' malicious. And these things can happen in dangerous business like war."

"I shouldn't have gone to the bridge. I should have told Claudia I'd been drinking, that I wouldn't be able to..." She sniffed. Her eyes were already red from tears. "I endangered everyone on this ship."

"No, you didn't," said Ranma. "You had a couple of drinks, sure, and yeah, maybe your reflexes weren't quite what they should have been--"

"No, Ranma!" She turned to glare at him. "I fucked up, royally. I missed a step setting up the Daedalus Attack, which left the ship out of position. That's why the missiles broke through to attack our ships. And I couldn't abort them all quickly enough--"

"Misa, I don't think anyone could." Ranma shook his head. "Remember, I was out there. Vermillion was scattered all to hell and back, from fightin' off the Zentraedi. When they formed up to give chase, Ichigyo was in the rear, and the missiles targeted him first."

"But it was my mistake that caused the missiles to target him in the first place."

"Misa..." He sighed; he was still no good at this sort of thing. "Hikaru knew what he was gettin' into when he signed up. He knew he was gonna get shot at, and that occasionally he'd get shot at by his own side. Because you can't always control weapons once they're put into action, especially weapons like guided missiles."

"But--"

"Back when Akane and I first met, there was this guy, Ryouga, who had a grudge against me. An' he threw a weapon - a belt, using the Iron Cloth technique - at me. It missed me, and cut Akane's hair." He winced. "She was so proud of that hair; it was longer than yours. And when it was cut...she sorta went into shock."

"What does that have to do with--"

"Ryouga reacted much the same as you are. He blamed himself, an' since it was partly my fault, I blamed myself, as well. We apologized to her, and she accepted it. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because these things happen." He turned to face her more fully. "Nobody's perfect. Accidents happen. You managed to save his life, by abortin' most of the missiles. So you know what you have to do to make this right?"

"Apologize to him?" Misa stared at him in disbelief. "That's all?"

"Yeah, that's all." Ranma shrugged. "He probably knows that it was an accident, that it wasn't like you were gunnin' for him. As to goin' to the bridge while drunk...you weren't very drunk, and without you there, we couldn't have fought off the Zentraedi as easily as we did."

"I..." She shook her head. "I'm not convinced. But you're right that I should apologize to Ichigyo. At the very least, I owe him that. And to the Captain." She paused. "Akane just accepted your apology, after her hair was cut?"

Ranma nodded. "Yeah." He paused, and rubbed his jaw. "Of course, I also told her she could take a free shot on me."

"You mean--"

"She packed a mean hook."

Misa giggled. "If it's all right with you, I don't think I'll offer Ichigyo the same." She wiped her eyes, and sighed. "I'm sorry...I'm turning very high maintenance on you. First the issue with my father, then this..."

Ranma shrugged. "I used to fly Hornets. I'm used to high maintenance."

* * *


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Duel of Aces

* * *

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Eighteen: Duel of Aces**

**May 19th, 2010**

_Science and Technology Report_

_Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_The Queaddlun-Rau Powered Armour_

_Almost all the information that we have on the Zentraedi's most powerful and manoeuvreable combat robot is gathered from a single specimen that was disabled and captured by Lt. Ranma Saotome, UNMC. The unit has appeared on five occasions since the start of the Space War, however, and the time between appearances has dropped; probability of increased frequency of encounters seems high._

_The most notable element of the Queaddlun-Rau is its vectored thrust system. Similar to the system used on our own combat robots, the two engine nozzles on the back of the powered armour suit allow it to alter course or heading without relying on control surfaces. Like those of the Valkyrie, the vectored thrust nozzles are tied into the piloting computer of the armour; unlike those of the Valkyrie, they react to all gross-body movements, allowing a pilot to change course in the same manner that she'd merely side-step an obstacle._

_The armour's weaponry is also quite impressive. Six pulse lasers are mounted three each per arm, and each is as powerful as the forward lasers on the Valkyrie. Targeting for these lasers is refined by a small K-band doppler radar transciever in the forearm. Two single-barrel impact cannons are mounted in the torso, firing self-propelled guided non-explosive shells. This weapon system appears to be unique to this robot; it has not been seen on any other Zentraedi combat robots. The chest cannon have their own targeting radar and computer, and as a result, the Queaddlun-Rau can engage up to three targets with gunfire with little or no effort on the part of the pilot. Pulse repetition rate, tight-beam output and very high power output overall make these targeting radars very difficult, frequently impossible, to jam._

_The Qeuaddlun-Rau also carries missiles, a total of one hundred and twenty-eight small infrared-homing weapons similar in size to the GS-11 Coral Snake, though somewhat lighter and slower. No example of these weapons have been captured, so their capabilities are largely unknown. Aside from their guidance, which is inferred based on the fact that jamming has proven ineffective, all that is known about them is their range in atmosphere, which is about eight kilometers. One of these missiles has been known to destroy a Valkyrie, but without hard data, it is impossible to say if the weapon has a powerful warhead, or if the shot in question merely hit something explosive within the Valkyrie._

* * *

"He's still unconscious?"

The nurse shook her head. "No. Just sleeping. He woke up yesterday, but he's still exhausted."

"Doesn't seem right," quipped Ranma. "He spent two weeks asleep, and he's still tired."

"The human body burns a lot of energy while healing," said the nurse. Ranma waved a hand.

"I know, I know. Trust me." He chuckled.

"You're not his first visitor."

"Hm?" Ranma glanced over to the nurse. "Who else? Roy?"

"Major Focker, yes. And the rest of the Lieutenant's team. They were in as soon as they heard he'd woken up."

Ranma nodded. "Figured they'd be the first in. Did they cheer him up?"

"No," admitted the nurse. "In fact, I got the distinct impression he was more depressed after they left. Do you think there's anything you could do to cheer him up?"

Ranma frowned. "Dunno. Maybe one thing...Do me a favour? Can you get me a glass of water?"

"Sure."

* * *

The first thing that Hikaru saw upon awakening was Ranma, in female form, seated near his bed.

"Yo. How ya feelin'?"

Hikaru smiled weakly. "Like I went ten rounds with a full-sized Zentraedi."

"That good, eh?" Ranma grinned. "Well, it looks like you're gonna be needin' a new ride. Your Valkyrie got all messed up in the accident."

Hikaru snorted. "They'll probably give me the oldest piece of shit in the inventory. After all, I keep losing the damn birds."

"Probably for the first two weeks, you'll be ridin' such things. I've been doin' that for nearly a month now." Her grin widened. "But they finally gave me a new Jaybird."

"Nice." Hikaru nodded. "Those are a sweet ride."

"I lost my last Jaybird durin' that boardin' action. Never even named it."

"That's why you lost it." Pilots were almost as superstitious as sailors, and technically, Valkyrie pilots were both.

"Yeah. Didn't take any chances with my new ride. Named it after that British genius. Hawkwing."

Hikaru laughed. "His name is _Hawking_, you dolt."

"Oh." Ranma scratched her head. "That explains why Misa laughed at me. Speaking of which. Got someone here who wants to talk to you." She stood up and walked over to the hatch. Like all such aboard _Macross_, it was a powered pocket door. She thumbed the controls and the hatch hissed open.

Misa stepped in, a bunch of flowers in hand. _Where did she get those?_ he wondered idly. She paused just inside the hatch, seemingly at a loss. Ranma stepped around her, and closed the hatch from the other side, leaving them alone in the room.

"Commander." He nodded in greeting, more to break the awkward silence.

"Lieutenant Ichigyo. I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Well, I don't know about _better_, but at least I'm awake."

"Hikaru..." She looked down quickly. "I'm sorry. I messed up, because I'd been drinking. Messed up twice. Once during the Daedalus Manoeuvre, and then when I tried to stop the missiles from hitting you."

Hikaru shrugged. "Ma'am, it's all right. If I'd kept a better eye on my position, I wouldn't have been in the path of fire. If I'd had more practise, I could have avoided the missiles even after lock-on, or shot them down. You're no more to blame for this than me."

"But--"

"Ma'am, it was a simple accident, shit happens, and we move on, okay." He scowled. "Sorry about the language."

"I've heard worse." She smiled. "I've used worse. Ask Ranma. He'll tell you. During training, I occasionally...well, express my frustration in most colourful terms."

Hikaru laughed. "I might just sign up for his class, just to see that happen. Well, let's clear the air between us, okay?" He sat forward, and winced. "Friendly fire happens. You did your best, I did my best, and somewhere, we failed to meet in the middle. Sure, I got hurt, but I'm on the mend. And if I know you, you've been kicking yourself over this for the last...How long was I out?"

"Twelve days," said Misa.

"Oh." He chuckled. "Anyway. You've probably already punished yourself enough for this, and you really don't need to apologize."

A brief frown crossed Misa's face. "What makes you think that I've been beating myself up over this?"

"Because you expect nothing less than the best from yourself, just like you do from us pilots. And you certainly yell at me enough if I screw up."

If Hikaru had said this to her nine months ago, she'd have yelled at him now. But this wasn't Ichigyo Hikaru, loudmouthed amateur pilot; this was Lieutenant Ichigyo, Valkyrie Pilot and CO of Vermillion Squadron. He'd come a long way, and she found it easy to accept his words.

"Well, then, Lieutenant. Let this be a lesson to you." She grinned. "Next time, stay out of my firing solution."

He saluted her smartly. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Get better soon." She set the flowers on the counter. "We need you out there."

* * *

"I can't believe that he accepted it." Misa toyed with her coffee cup. The Officer's Mess was currently deserted, save for the two of them. Claudia was due off shift in half an hour, and they were hoping to catch up with her.

Ranma shrugged. "Like I said."

"I know, Ranma." Misa rolled her eyes. "If I live to be a hundred, I'll never understand you fighter jocks."

Ranma chuckled. Of course, she was still in female form, so it sounded more like a giggle. "Fair is fair. After all, it's been fifteen years since I started turnin' into a girl, and I _still_ don't understand women."

"Then why did you turn into one for Ichigyo's benefit?"

"Simple," said Ranma. "I _do_ understand fighter jocks."

Misa glanced down at her coffee, then looked up. "Doctor Lang managed to cobble together a new barrier field."

"Oh?"

"It's a full barrier, covers the ship in a globe, instead of just three small disks."

"Gotta be better." Ranma continued stir her coffee absently.

"Yes. Among other things, it means that we don't need three techs whose only job is to steer the barrier."

"Mm."

Misa frowned. "Well, there's no need to get excited or anything."

Ranma looked up, surprised at the ire in Misa's voice. "Sorry. Ain't this worse than the Pin-Point Barrier? I mean, you gotta stretch the same amount of energy over the whole ship, right? An' ya can't use it for a Daedalus attack."

"It gives us greater tactical flexibility," pointed out Misa.

"Well, that's good, I guess. I know us pilots like havin' that." She frowned. "But, I don't really know jack about the shipboard side of things, ya know?"

Misa sighed. "I guess that's fair. I don't really know much about the Valkyrie side of the equation, either. I lean pretty heavily on Roy for that."

Ranma shrugged. "That's why there are different specialties, different fields."

"Speaking of which. You've spent a lot of time with Commander Tendo in the last week." Misa smiled slightly. "Should I be jealous?"

Ranma shuddered. "No. Not at all."

Misa blinked. This was far from the reaction she'd expected. "I thought you and Nabiki got along well."

"Don't even mention the idea of her an' me datin'. We were engaged, ya know, for almost a week."

"Really?"

"Longest week of my life." She shuddered again. "Me an' Akane were havin' a fight, and she decided that we weren't gonna be engaged any more. Nabiki stepped in, said it was a matter of honour that I marry a Tendo, and that she'd take Akane's place."

"I didn't know she cared that much about you."

"She don't. She just wanted to irritate Akane. She rented me out to various clubs and sports teams most of that week, then handed me back to Akane."

Misa laughed. "You do manage to get yourself into the most interesting dilemmas."

"Yeah." Ranma paused, and stirred her coffee. She looked up, frowning. "You almost _do_ seem jealous."

"Well..." Misa shrugged. "You two have a long history together...longer than you and I. You went out on a limb for her, breaking regs. Would you have done that for me?"

"In a heartbeat." Ranma leaned back. "Misa...I ain't got too many friends. You. Roy. Claudia. And Nabs. That about sums it up."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "Remember, back before we started datin', I was tellin' everyone that I didn't _want_ to get involved with you?"

Misa looked down. "Did I pressure you into this?"

"Don't go like that." Ranma waved a hand. "I mean, we were good friends, an' I was happy with that. You wanted more, an' I'd already decided that I'd say yes if that happened." She grinned lopsidedly. "An' I'm pretty happy with the results so far. You remember what my life was like before I married Akane?"

"Only from stories - yours and Commander Tendo's." Misa chuckled. "I believe the phrase 'Fiancee of the Week Club' was used?"

Ranma nodded. "Nabs an' I weren't at all friendly at that time, mostly because the agreement between my Pops an' hers called for me to marry a Tendo - any one of the three. So until I made a decision, she couldn't even _date_."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. So for her to throw her hand into that mess...Well, I might not have trusted her, or even liked her, but I was certain that at least I wouldn't end up with her chasin' me." Ranma snorted. "And then it seemed she was. How d'ya think that made me feel?"

"Poor Ranma...being desired by half a dozen women." Misa grinned. "Really, I don't see why you complain so much. Was it all that bad?"

"You have no idea, Commander Hayase."

Ranma and Misa jumped, and turned. Behind them was Nabiki.

"Speak of the devil," muttered Ranma.

"I'm hurt, Saotome." Nabiki frowned in mock tragedy. "You didn't tell her exactly how you and Akane got back together."

"And I ain't gonna," snarled Ranma. "You delight in tormentin' me with that incident, don't ya?"

Misa blinked. Her boyfriend was normally quite even-tempered; obviously, this was a source of great embarrassment to Ranma. She decided that a change in topic was in order.

"Commander Tendo, how was it that you and Ranma came to be engaged in the first place? I thought that he and Akane were most devoted to each other."

"Yes, they were." Nabiki grinned. "They looked out for each other in most situations. But because Ranma was a considerably better martial artist than Akane, he ended up looking out for her more than she did for him."

"Akane had anger problems," said Ranma. "The three of us were standin' on a balcony, an' Akane hit it, an' it collapsed. I figured that Akane could land safely, which she did, but that Nabs would be a grease spot. So I saved Nabs, and let Akane handle the fall herself."

"Oh, she was most put out over that," chuckled Nabiki. "And Ranma was more than surprised to learn that just because I no longer actively practiced the Art, didn't mean I was untrained. I could have handled that fall easily enough."

Ranma chuckled, her bad mood apparently forgotten. "Ya weren't trained well enough to deal with the Fiancee Front when they came lookin' for ya."

"At least Ukyo was kind enough to warn me that it was going to happen," said Nabiki.

Misa frowned, and glanced at the clock. "Where the heck is Claudia?"

"Lieutenant LaSalle? She went to Variation." This was a small cafe in Macross City. "Major Focker called her up and asked her to meet him for coffee."

"Really?" Misa shrugged. "Can't really complain, then. Those two don't get to spend enough time together."

"You'd think she'd let us know," muttered Ranma.

"She gave me the message to give to you," said Nabiki. "That's why I came down here."

Misa scowled at her, though Ranma could tell it was at least somewhat in play. "And why exactly did you wait until I complained before letting me know?"

Nabiki shrugged. "I figured it was more fun this way."

"Oh, now that you're here, Major." Misa sat up straight. "We've had some reports of black market activity on this boat. Would you care to look into that?"

"Not a problem." Nabiki looked around, then said, "In fact, I've gathered some information already. A Destroid driver brought me some interesting data to look over."

Ranma rolled her eyes. "Puttin' Nabiki in charge of a black market investigation is pretty much as good as tellin' her to run it herself."

* * *

"Contact!" Shammy leaned forward and stared at her screen. "Enemy dropship, bearing fifteen azimuth twelve, range four hundred kilometers."

"Alert Ready Five and BARCAP," ordered Global. "Page Commander Hayase to the bridge."

"Already done, Sir."

"Who's on Ready Five?"

"Vermillion Squadron, but Lieutenant Ichigyo is still in hospital, will be for a week."

Global bit his lip. "Contact Lieutenant Saotome and Major Focker. Order them to stand to."

"Sir." Kim turned in her seat. "Skull Alpha was on Ready Five fourteen hours ago. So Skull Leader is still on enforced stand-down."

"I don't care," growled Global. "I'm sending Saotome out in Ichigyo's place. If we need to, we can launch Skull Alpha to back up the Vermillions."

* * *

The deck tractor pushed _Hawkwing_ back onto the elevator. Ranma checked the seals on his flight suit, then ran towards the fighter. He didn't bother with the ladder, merely leaped to the cockpit, one foot touching down on the footrail, and dropped into the seat.

Red-suited Ordies ran up to the fighter, began checking weapons. None required down-checks; the worst thing that they found was that the gun pod had not yet been plugged into the computer.

_Wouldn't_ that _have been fun?_

The ordies ran clear of the Valkyrie, and the internal doors closed. As _Macross_ was in atmosphere, there was no need to exhaust the liftlock; the overhead hatch opened immediately, and the fighter was lifted to the deck.

Ranma completed the preflight checklist, and began starting up the engines. Under normal circumstances, starting engines while still on the lift lock was against regulations. But the enemy robots were already attacking over the deck; he decided that regulations could be bent in such circumstances.

A deck tractor was already rolling towards the Valkyrie; Ranma waved him off and started his wheel motors. The Valkyrie rolled backwards off the liftlock deck, and Ranma goosed the throttles. The paired FF-2001 fusion engines roared, venting plasma, and the fighter fell at most six feet before the thrust overcame gravity, and the fighter shot straight up.

Sixteen fighters were already airborne, including Focker's _Skull One_ and Jenius' _Falconeur_. His threat indicator read thirty-six enemy combat robots, all of them the female types.

Luckily, he was carrying the fire-and-forget Diamondback missiles, six each per wing. The Jaybird's powerful radar locked up four enemy robots, and punched missiles free to engage them.

The Zentraedi powered armour broke off from their targets, twisting to engage the incoming missiles with laser fire. Two managed to knock down the weapons tracking them. A third missed, and the missile detonated, peppering the target with fragments and forcing it to lose altitude as it recovered. A fourth was struck dead-on, the missile detonating on impact. What fell towards the ocean bore no resemblance to a combat robot.

Ranma pulled on the pole, his teeth gritting as he fought the jet through a nine-gee bat-turn. His head bounced off the padded supports - placed there for this very reason - as the jet slid through its turn. He lined up one of the surviving units in his targeting ring. The radar haloed the target, judged its range and vector, and gave him a firing solution; a pull of the trigger sent fifty rounds from the gun pod to carve the target in half.

* * *

"Thirteen targets splashed."

"Looks like Lieutenant Saotome is racking up the kills." Claudia eyed the repeaters. "He got three of them in under a minute."

Global chewed his pipe stem, wishing that, just once, he'd get to smoke during a battle without that tyrant Shammy yelling at him. "Have you made contact with Major Focker?"

"Sir...Focker is already airborne."

Global grunted. "I'm not really surprised."

"What is that one doing?" mused Misa. She indicated one unit, hanging back some distance from the battle.

Shammy adjusted her controls, zoomed in on the unit. "Looks like she's waiting for something."

"Whatever it is, it can't be good for us."

"She's moving. Heading into the combat. Straight for _Skull One!_"

* * *

Ranma shifted to Battroid Mode, ejected the spent clip from his gun pod and rammed another home. Another quick shift, to GERWALK, and he rocketed towards the next knot of enemy troops.

He'd knocked down five so far - ace in one sortie, had he not already been Ace of Aces - and Roy had accounted for six. He and Roy were working towards the center, and only ten targets remained. He haloed another, fired off a missile towards it, and glanced towards Roy's ship.

And so was able to see the armour that hammered it with its chest guns. _Skull One_ wavered, then started tumbling towards the ocean. The armour continued to fire into it, and _Skull One_ exploded.

Ranma's blood ran cold. There had been no ejection, no parachute.

Roy Focker.

Dead.

The enemy robot paused, as though its pilot were inspecting her handiwork, and Ranma recognized the insignia on it.

The Zentraedi Ace.

He howled his rage, pulled the gun pod around, and jerked the trigger. The robot moved, twisting aside as a twenty-round burst flew through the space it had occupied less than a second before, then rolled upright and fired a swarm of missile at him.

He nosed up, glancing through the fighter's monocle to pinpoint one missile after another, blowing them apart with fire from the turret lasers. At the same time, he fired burst after burst from the gun pod at the Zentraedi robot, aiming as much by instinct as by eye. One burst tagged it, damaging its plastron but failing to destroy it. It turned, started accelerating away from the fight.

He shifted back to Fighter mode, and turned to pursue.

"_Skull Thirteen, Gunsight One. Let her go; she's retreating._"

"No," he growled.

"_Skull Thirteen, that's a direct order. Return to the fight--_"

"No!" This time, he yelled it. "She killed Roy. Fired into his crippled airplane, to make sure he died. I'm gonna fuckin' _kill_ her!"

He haloed the robot with the radar, and pickled off all seven remaining missiles. The enemy fighter twisted to shoot them down with her wrist lasers, but lost enough speed that he caught up with her. He reconfigured to Battroid mode, wings still extended, and twisted in mid-flight to slam into the Zentraedi boot-first.

The enemy was caught completely unprepared, and was knocked backwards, tumbling out of control. She recovered her fighter, and jetted back towards him, chest guns blazing. He dodged the tracers, brought his own gun around and pulled the trigger.

And got nothing; the clip was empty. He cursed, ejected it, and loaded his third and last clip. Then pivoted on his jets, bringing the Battroid's leg around in an mid-air spin kick.

But this time, the Zentraedi ace was ready for it. She parried the shot with the robot's left arm, and fired into his jet with the right arm's lasers. Damage readouts lit up on his board, but he ignored them. The gun pod was in the Battroid's right fist; with the left, he punched her armour's faceplate, cracking the material and pushing her away. Then brought up the gun, and triggered three bursts into the armour's carapace.

But the back armour of the robot was surprisingly tough, and absorbed the punishment without apparent damage. The Zentraedi pivoted again, launched another swarm of missiles at point-blank range. He shifted to GERWALK, jetted forward inside her minimum range, then back to Battroid to tackle her. His jet's left hand found purchase on the armour's right arm, and he twisted and tore.

The lower arm was ripped free, torn clear of its joint. Sparks and arcing electricity spat from the stump. He tossed the arm aside, then twisted as she hammered at him with the chest guns. Two rounds smacked into his fighter, but again he ignored damage telltales.

He flicked his head, and the targeting monocle came back down. The head lasers rotated to engagement angle, and he fired them into the head of the armour. This didn't half please the Zentraedi, and she worked her vectored thrusters to shake him off. Grimly, he clung to the robot, kicking it whenever he got the chance, and keeping the lasers trained as close to one spot as he could.

Finally, the Zentraedi managed to dislodge him, and he fell two hundred meters before he could reconfigure and recover the aircraft. To his amazement, the Zentraedi dove after him, guns blazing. He tilted and dodged, burning towards her at maximum climb, then reconfigured again and grabbed a leg.

A quick twist, an upward kick, and the leg came off even more easily than the arm.

The Zentraedi was obviously starting to panic at his sheer bloody-minded assault. She broke away again, burning at maximum thrust out of the combat zone.

Ranma shifted once again to Fighter Mode, haloed the fighter, and firewalled his engines. He was burning through reaction mass at a frightful rate, but he wanted to keep her in range of his main lasers as long as possible. A thumb flipped the cannons to pure automatic mode; whenever the targeting ring crossed the robot, the computer pinned its exact vector, servos traversed the lasers to intersect, and a burst was fired. Sixteen times, he managed to center her before she pulled away, and at least three times, he scored a hit. Armour fragments rattled off his canopy, her right hand was blown clear of its arm, and he noted with satisfaction that her velocity was dropping.

But it wasn't dropping fast enough. She slowly but surely pulled away from him, falling out of his range, and, his blood lust still unassauged, he watched with disgust as she broke free of his engagement envelope and burned off over the horizon.

"_--mmit, Saotome! Break off! Let her go! That's an order from the Captain!_"

He realized that Misa had been shouting at him all during the duel. His thumb depressed the mike switch.

"Gunsight One, Skull Thirteen." His voice sounded hollow in his ears. "Target has exceeded my range and is still accelerating. I'm returning to base."

* * *

Misa was coldly furious with him.

Ranma didn't really give a damn.

"You were issued a direct order," she said. "You were told to come about and return to the dogfight." Her voice was Arctic. "I gave you that order in my capability as combat information officer. Further, Captain Global also ordered you to return to the battle."

She paused. Ranma kept silent, stood rigidly at attention, kept his eyes on a point on the back wall about two inches above her head.

"Dammit, Saotome!" She turned away from him, crossed her arms. "I'm trying to give you a chance to explain your actions, and you're ignoring me."

"No, Ma'am." Ranma fought to keep his voice level. "I am not ignoring you. I recognize that I disobeyed a direct order. I have no excuse for my actions."

"This isn't the first time for you, Ranma." Misa turned back to face him. "There was the incident with Shelter Seventeen. And several items going back further, as far back as Basic." She scowled. "Every time before, you've supported your actions, and it's difficult to find fault with you for them. But going after that pilot..." She shook her head. "It looked like vengeance, like rage. Killing her won't bring back Roy."

"Ma'am, any person on the other side that will go out of their way to ensure the death of a pilot needs to be taken out." He scowled, changing expression for the first time since landing. "I know that that ain't by the book, but it's somethin' that I had to do. I had to keep the faith."

"By disengaging from the defensive flight, you put your fellow pilots at risk," pointed out Misa. "How does that keep the faith?"

Ranma's face returned to its impassivity. "As I said, Ma'am, I offered explanation. I don't expect that you'll accept it."

"Lieutenant, that sounds dangerously close to an insult."

"It was not intended to be, Ma'am. Just that I know that I disobeyed orders, and expect to be treated accordingly." He glanced back at her. "You know what has to be done."

Misa sighed. "I hate to admit it, but I think you're in the right on that at least. I can't shield you from the results, or everyone will assume that I can't keep our personal lives separate from our professional lives."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"There's a further problem," she went on. "Roy's death leaves a hole in the TO&E that isn't easily filled. Without a Commander, Air Group, the air wing falls under the purview of the Combat Operations Officer. Which means that I am now directly in your chain of command, and Article Sixty-Five applies."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"But I'm certain that Captain Global will--"

"No," he interrupted her. "Sorry, Misa, but we can't let the Skipper bend the rules for anyone. An' we can't go sneakin' around behind the regs, either. Not on a ship this small. So, until you appoint a new CAG, we've gotta break it off."

Misa gaped. "You want to break up with me?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't want to. But until there's a new CAG, we can't see each other, so I'd be just as happy if you pick one soon." He raised his hand before she could open her mouth again. "I'm sorry, but I've already violated one reg today, an' I don't want to break another."

"Ranma..." Misa sighed. "I don't want to break up, either. But..." She shook her head. "But you're right. It's just temporary, and I'm not going to be looking for anyone else. A new CAG has to go by the Captain, as well, though."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"So it might be some time."

"With a war on?" Ranma snorted. "He'll expedite."

"Probably." Misa paused. "All right, I think that covers everything."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"God, I don't want to do this," she muttered. Then louder: "Lieutenant Saotome. You disobeyed a direct order during a combat situation, resulting in the endangering of fellow pilots. Your flight status is hereby suspended, and you will remain in close quarters arrest until thirteen hundred hours tomorrow, at which time you will be escorted to the Captain's office for Mast."

Ranma reached up, and slowly removed his cap. While under arrest, he was not legally permitted to wear it.

Misa stepped back, and opened the hatch. "Corporal. Please escort Saotome to his quarters, and keep him there under arrest."

* * *


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Sacrifice

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Nineteen: Sacrifice**

**June 17th, 2010**

_Science and Technology Report_

_Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_The Officer's Battle Pod_

_As with the standard Battle Pod, the designation for this unit is tentative, until such time as we learn its proper name. Also, unlike the Battle Pod, we have not managed to capture one of these intact as of yet, nor even managed to destroy one. They are quite uncommon, numbering about one per every fifty standard Battle Pods among the Zentraedi male forces. They are more powerful units, and their pilots seem to demonstrate better training or experience, and as such, it is believed that the use of this machine is reserved for the Zentraedi elite male officers._

_The Officer's Pod is a four-limbed machine, two arms and two legs. It carries what appear to be the same particle cannons as the standard Pod, but relocated to paddle-shaped appendages at the end of the arms - the Pod lacks articulated hands. The lower-mounted 13.3mm impact cannons are still present, though the ammo payload appears to be somewhat lower; the Officer's Pod has not been observed to fire the chest cannons as frequently as the standard Pod._

_In addition to the particle cannons, the hand-paddles also carry two cannons, bore size unknown but believed to be between 25mm and 30mm. These are rapid-fire weapons, with a rate of fire over 1000 rounds per minute, and the Pod has been observed firing multiple five-second bursts. Therefore, these weapons must have at least two hundred rounds available per cannon._

_The rear-facing lasers have been removed from this design, and replaced with a single forward-facing particle cannon of considerably greater power than the standard ones mounted on Battle Pods. Estimates place the capabilities of this cannon on par with that found on our MBR-04 Tomahawk combat robots, making this weapon a serious threat to Valkyries, or even the lighter-armoured Destroids such as the Spartan or Defender. To round out its armament mix, the Officer's Battle Pod carries six missiles, similar to the GS-11 Coral Snake. The capabilities of this missile are at best inferred; they cannot be jammed by electromagnetic radiation, and have thus far failed to be spoofed by chaff or flare. The best estimate is a laser-guided weapon._

_The Officer's Battle Pod is a highly mobile machine, as well. Its top running speed is in excess of 200 kilometers per hour, and it can leap at least thirty meters in Earth-type gravity. In space, its acceleration exceeds that of the VF-1A, but its vectored thrust is inferior. Computer support and powerplant capabilities are not yet determined; not even estimates are available, until such time as we capture one of these machines relatively intact._

_The one bright spot in this report, however, is the machine's armour. Though heavier than that of the standard Pod, it is still laughably thin. GU-11 fire can damage it, though we have not yet managed to kill one as of yet with guns alone. A direct hit from a GA-23, or a near miss from a GA-31, will destroy the robot, whereas such a hit would not do much more than scratch the paint on a Tomahawk. GS-11 Coral Snakes seem to be unable to track the unit. It is believed that it carries some sort of radar-absorbent material, that disrupts the frequencies used by the GS-11's BRCLOS system._

_The largest weak point that the unit has is the sensor window at the lower front, just above the impact cannons. A hit to this port appears to blind the unit, resulting in it leaving the battlefield. Pilots are advised that, on an approach, multiple bursts from the GU-11 is recommended, as it increases the chance to hit this small but vulnerable point._

* * *

"Hey, look who's back!"

Ranma grinned. "Guys, a few weeks of close quarters, is all. Not like I was gone years or nothin'."

"Says you," said Kakizaki. "We've been pining away for you."

Ranma flicked the Jolly Rogers patch on Kakizaki's uniform shoulder. "What's with this? Since when do you wear the Skull?"

"Didn't you hear?" Kakizaki laughed. "Me, Max and the Boss were assigned to Skull."

"Really."

"In fact, Ichigyo's the new CO of the Skull."

Ranma rolled his eyes. "I'm out of it for a month, and everyone gets delusions of grandeur."

"No, really," said Max. "They rolled out a VF-1S - the last one, I heard - and Lieutenant Ichigyo got it painted up in _Skull One_ colours. The same black and yellow as...you know--"

"Yeah." Ranma's good mood crashed down abruptly.

Pilots are, by nature, superstitious. And one of the biggest taboos that they have was that you did not mention death. To do so was to invite His attention. You did not mention a dead pilot, lest the bad luck that led to his death plague you as well.

Add to that fact that Roy was one of the greatest pilots to have served in this war. Almost immortal, his kill tally having exceeded one hundred and twenty five - Ace Cubed, as he'd referred to it once - no person thought that he could be shot down. Much less killed.

_The Zentraedi Ace, firing her cannons into his crippled fighter, ensuring his death._

"Well, the good news is," continued Kakizaki, "they got your jet out of the body-and-fender shop. She's ready to roll, and to kick Zentraedi ass. And I'll be up there with you, watching your back."

"Great. Thanks, Hayao. I feel really secure, now." Ranma smirked. "We got a new CAG yet?"

"Scuttlebutt is that Jackson's been tapped. But there's been no announcement from the Skipper as of yet."

The hatch to the ready room hissed open. "Attention on deck."

Ranma and Hayao leaped to their feet as Misa walked in.

"Lieutenant Saotome." She pulled a folder from under her arm. "Your orders, Sir."

"Thank you, Ma'am." He took the folder, but did not offer a salute. His cap still sat on the table.

"I'm sorry to say that, because you were in hack, you were not promoted to command the Jolly Rogers."

"Oh?" Ranma raised an eyebrow. "Not that I really wanted the job - especially not this way - but who did get it?"

Of course, he'd already heard. But he felt certain that he'd get Misa's opinion of the new CO.

She did not disappoint him. "Lieutenant Ichigyo." She sounded more than a bit disgusted. "Apparently, the Captain decided that, since he'd done a bang-up job protecting us on Mars, plus rescuing you after that recon unit shot you up, plus several other things of that sort, he was obviously command material."

He couldn't resist needling her. "May I assume that the Commander disagrees with this assessment."

She scowled. "You know my opinion of Lieutenant Ichigyo well enough. Hell, I thought you shared it."

"Well, he did bust me, Hayao and Max out of that Zentraedi interrogation cell--"

Too late, he realized that he'd pushed it a bit too far. Misa's face was icy.

"Then you should have no problems briefing him in, Lieutenant."

She turned abruptly away and stalked through the hatch.

Kakizaki whistled. "Trouble in paradise."

"Shut up, Hayao, or you'll be eatin' through a straw."

He bit his lip. Misa was, at the best of times, rather touchy. This would not be the best of times.

_At least she didn't mallet me. Why is it I always end up with the easily aggravated women?_

* * *

"Permission to enter, Skipper?"

"Huh?" Ichigyo looked up in confusion. "Oh. Yeah, that's me. Come on in, Saotome."

Ranma sauntered in, allowing the hatch to hiss closed behind him, and sat down opposite Ichigyo. That worthy's desk - formerly Roy's desk - was piled a foot deep in forms, books, reports and briefings.

Ichigyo waved a hand at the pile. "I can't believe that Roy ever found time to wade through all this."

"Good." Ranma nodded. "Because he didn't."

"Really?"

"You want to make a molehill out of this mountain? Ya gotta learn to delegate."

"Is that so?" Ichigyo leaned back. "Coffee?"

"Thank you, Sir."

"Oh, cut the 'Sir' crap!" Ichigyo snorted. "First off, we're the same pay grade. Second, you're senior to me by - what? Eight months?"

"But you're the Commanding Officer of the Jolly Rogers."

"It should have been you," pointed out Ichigyo. Ranma snorted.

"Yeah, right. I'm a mustang officer. Wardroom mentality, an' all of that. More importantly, have you seen my dossier?"

Ichigyo waved helplessly at the desk again. "It's in here somewhere."

"Lemme save you some time diggin'. 'Insufficient educational preparation. Insufficient organizational skills. Improper temperament for command of a unit larger than a squad.' Those are from my Marine report."

"But that's for Marines."

"Just what do you think this outfit is?" Ranma stood, walked over to the coffee machine. "I don't drink a lot of coffee. Mind if I run this thing for hot water?"

"Sure," said Ichigyo. "There's tea bags in the credenza."

"I know." He filled the carafe, poured it into the machine, and double-checked the filter compartment to ensure that it was free of coffee grounds. Then dumped it and washed it; the fine skim of mould on top would not improve the flavour of tea. "Anyway, when they developed the Variable Fighter, the idea was that it'd serve the same role as a Navy fighter aircraft. But that was wrong. At least, it was right when in Fighter mode. But in GERWALK, it acts more like an Air Force attack helicopter. In Battroid mode, it operates more like an Army tank. Only one armed force can fill all three roles: the Marines."

"Fair enough," Ichigyo allowed.

"So we operate like Marines. We can deploy at any time into any environment. Air, land, sea, space. We're first in and last out. We pave the way for less flexible, but more powerful, units. With me so far?"

"Of course." Ichigyo scowled. "We got the same lecture in Flight."

"At the same time, a Valkyrie needs fewer support personnell than any fighter jet or helicopter - though a bit more than, say, a tank. Thus the goofy rank structure that we use."

Ichigyo chuckled at that. "I know that prior to the Valkyrie, only officers were allowed to fly."

"Except in the Army, where enlisteds could fly helicopters, even combat choppers." Ranma thumbed the power switch on the coffee machine, and turned to lean against the credenza. "How many support staff are required for a Valkyrie One-A, Block Two?"

"Fourteen." The answer was automatic.

"In the Marines, you'd put a Corporal in command of fourteen people."

"Corporals fly Valkyries." Ichigyo bit his lip. "But almost every Valk pilot is bumped to Sergeant upon completing their first sortie."

"But that's because you need more than fourteen people to support one Valkyrie. Only fourteen work on the jet itself. How many support staff for an eighteen-fighter Squadron?"

"That's in here somewhere." Ichigyo frowned. "I think it's the other side of five hundred, though."

"Five hundred and twenty." Ranma touched a finger to his lip as he worked the math in his head. "Comes to about twenty-nine people per Valkyrie. But a lot of them work at the Squadron level, instead of the fighter level. The fuelers and ordies, for example. Except for one permanently-assigned ordnance technician per fighter, the ordies go from plane to plane. The fuellers are even more loosely-assigned; no single Valkyrie has a regularly-assigned fueling technician. But I'm gettin' away from my point. Twenty-nine people calls for a Sergeant. Twice that calls for an officer - in our rank structure, a Warrant. Each Sergeant bosses his plane crew, but the real officers - six in each Squadron, one each per Wing - command seventy support staff each. An' the CO and XO boss them all."

"Okay, I follow you." Ichigyo snorted. "Vermillion never had more than a single Wing. We had ninety-five support staff."

"And that's too much for a single Wing. That's why we have the Squadrons."

"Okay." Ichigyo breathed out heavily. "So I'm responsible for five hundred and twenty enlisted ratings, plus eighteen officers or reasonable hand-drawn facsimiles."

"Bingo."

"Why the hell didn't they give Jackson this job?"

"Because he was pulled out of Skull four months ago for a staff position."

"Kramer?"

"Shot down two weeks ago." Ranma darkened. "The Jolly Rogers were well and truly decapitated that day. I'm the most senior officer left, an' I spent two weeks in hack at the worst possible time."

"So they mint me a Squadron Lieutenant, and toss the ball in my court," muttered Ichigyo.

"You've been flyin' longer than me."

"Right." Ichigyo chuckled. "Well, Lieutenant. I understand you've got some briefing material for me?"

"Five shiny new nuggets, fresh from repple-depple." Ranma tossed the folder on Ichigyo's desk. This dislodged several other papers, that cascaded to the deck. "Plus, I see you brought Hayao and Max from Vermillion. Any ideas on how you're organizing this circus?"

"I want you as my XO."

Ranma shrugged. "Okay."

"You've got more than ten years' experience in the military on me, and I want the benefit of that." Ichigyo sighed. "I was a nugget myself, six months ago."

"You've been doin' good," admitted Ranma.

"I'm leaving you in Skull Thirteen, Flight Leader Charlie, and assigning all five of these nuggets to you."

Ranma grinned. "That's the usual use for Charlie. An' it's what Roy had me doin', if you recall."

"Only too well," chuckled Ichigyo. "As to Bravo Flight, I was thinking of putting Max--"

Ranma raised a hand. "Wait. Max is a good pilot, and that's why you were thinkin' about puttin' him in as Bravo Leader, right?"

"Yeah."

"You might wanna reconsider that," offered Ranma. "I ain't sayin' he won't do a bang-up job, but good pilot ain't necessarily good leadership. Otherwise, I'd be running this Squadron."

"Fair enough," said Ichigyo. "But I don't know any of the other pilots in this Squadron well enough; I only flew in Skull for two sorties."

"Want me to make the call?"

Ichigyo frowned. "Jackson's detached, Kramer's gone...who are the Wingleaders?"

"Hendrikksen, Rossikov, and Park."

"And they're all Warrants?"

"Yep." Ranma frowned. "But Park's up for promotion to Flight Lieutenant, an' talkin' about transferring to the Wolves. They got a space in their TO&E."

Ichigyo rolled his eyes. "We've got two Flight Lieutenants, in Max and Hayao, and if I promote a Warrant to a slot that needs a Lieutenant, both of them are going to feel slighted. As it is, I kinda had to give you the XO's slot, because you're senior to me, and Commander Hayase was foolish enough not to give you the CO's slot."

"Make Kakizaki Bravo Lead."

"He's an idiot," countered Ichigyo.

"No, he ain't. He's hot-headed and doesn't always think things through, but he's big-hearted and friendly, and we don't know what his limits are yet. You can always change it later."

Ichigyo pondered this, then said, "All right, it's worth a risk. I'll put Jenius on Alpha Two Wingleader, Rossikov on Kakizaki's Two, and--shit. Hendrikksen."

"You want my outfit for cadre, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'll tell Hendrikksen, let him know that he's being bumped for training purposes. He won't mind if it's explained to him right."

"Okay." Ichigyo nodded. "And if you could write me up a real nice FitRep for Park, just leave me room to sign it, we can get him his board."

"Good," said Ranma. "You're learnin' to delegate." He pulled a single folder from the bottom of the desk pile. "I'll just need this to do it with."

Ichigyo blinked in amazement. "You _understand_ this chaos?"

* * *

"I just don't understand how he could be so needlessly, thoughtlessly _cruel_." Misa wiped her eyes. "I mean, okay, I can understand about him being upset that Ichigyo was promoted over him. That can happen, has happened, will happen again, to thousands of officers. But to lash out at _me_ over it--"

"I seriously doubt that he was lashing out at you." Nabiki paused to sip her tea. "Ranma isn't like that."

"That's what _I_ thought. But he--" She waved a hand in the air helplessly. "He threw my failure in my face. I lost it, when we were captured by the Zentraedi. If it weren't for Hikaru kicking my ass and keeping me moving, I might have just given up."

"That's not the story I heard."

"Hm?" Misa blinked.

"Ichigyo Hikaru, right? Former CO of Vermillion Squadron, now of the Jolly Rogers?" Nabiki nodded. "He helped me out with the analysis of the Battle Pod you guys brought back, and filled me in on the events of that little affair.

"First off, he pointed out that any clever idea they needed, you came up with."

"But he--"

"Second, you had the tracer, and the knowhow to use it, that allowed you to track down and rescue Ranma and the other two, right?"

"I--"

"Plus, despite serious emotional strain - that's from your own report, not his - you managed to deduce several key facts about Zentraedi culture."

"Actually," said Misa, "Both Ichigyo and Saotome managed to outdo me on that."

"Doesn't change the fact that you picked a few out yourself." Nabiki leaned back and picked up her teacup again. "So I think you're selling yourself a bit short, and I seriously doubt that Ranma viewed your actions during that encounter as a failure. He's a nice guy, deep down, but he's awfully insecure. And this shows by his tendency to tease people."

"I've never seen him do it before."

"No? It's a defensive reaction." Nabiki smirked. "He doesn't really understand emotions, or women. And he reacts to them with barbs and jests. Last time the three of us got together, he did much the same. Or just after I signed up; he referred to my rank as being 'bogus'. Still, I'll admit he's learned a bit better to use his brain before running his mouth. So he must have been more than a bit rattled to needle you quite that badly."

"Why would he be that upset? Over the promotion?"

"No." Nabiki shook her head in disgust; how could this woman be so dense? "Over Article Sixty Five, United Nations Code of Military Justice."

"Oh..."

"You know," she said brightly, "I was planning to steal him away from you."

Misa's eyes widened. "You--" She shook her head. "I thought you weren't interested in him?"

"Oh, I do quite like him. He's got a lot to recommend him, that boy." She chuckled. "But now that I know just how badly he's hung up on you, I don't think I'd have a prayer."

* * *

"Yo, Minmay." Ranma waved as the door to the White Dragon closed behind him. Then ducked as the inevitable cup of water flew in his direction. Unfortunately, it hit the door behind him, splashed, and cascaded over him.

She straightened up with a grimace, and wrung the water out of her pigtail. "Ya know, just once, I wish you wouldn't do that." She glanced down at herself. "Makes the uniform look like hell, on someone too small."

Minmay giggled. "I know, I know...but you're just so much cuter this way." She pouted. "Plus, Ichigyo doesn't get so jealous when we spend time together with you as a girl."

"Jealous? Of me?" Ranma snorted. "He should realize by now that I'm spoken for."

"Besides, when you're here as a girl, business improves. Two Miss Macross finalists in the same restaurant?"

"I woulda thought you'd be workin' on the film." _Macross_ had started producing its own television shows, and was now in the process of making a feature-length motion picture. Unsurprisingly, Minmay was in the female lead role.

"They gave us two days off while they work on foleys and special effects cues. We start filming again tomorrow. Where's Misa?"

"She's handlin' the flight." Ranma sat down at the table. "Global came up with a plan to get you guys home."

"What's the plan?"

"Well, since the brass don't wanna admit that you're even alive, they haven't told anyone about it. Nobody on Earth save a select few know that the civilian population of South Ataria survived. So Global's been advertisin' the fact by flyin' over major cities, broadcastin' on all radio frequencies and yellin' over the loudspeakers. He figured that surely _someone_ will decide they'll take ya."

"Oh!" Minmay's hand flew to her mouth. "Won't the Army try to stop him?"

"Probably." Ranma grinned. "But we got the biggest, baddest weapon of all. Peace through superior firepower. And it's workin'. We're on course to Hamilton, in the Ontario Quadrant, to offload the civilians."

The bell rang again, and Max Jenius stepped through. His boot slipped an inch on the wet floor, and he glanced down in puzzlement, then back up. "What happened here?"

"Minmay dropped a glass of water," said Ranma.

"Oh. Look, Ma'am, I'm glad I ran into you."

"Don't call me Ma'am."

"Sorry. I wanted to apologize for what happened on the Zentraedi ship."

"'Bout time," grumbled Ranma. "Why didn't you do it earlier?"

"Well, I haven't seen you since then."

Ranma's frown deepened. "Sure you have. You saw me two weeks ago--wait, no you didn't. I was in my jet. Never mind."

"Anyway, I'm sorry that I called you an alien, or a spy, or doubted that you were a Lieutenant. And I spoke to Commander Tendo, and she assured me that you're not one of her girls."

"Commander Tendo--" Ranma paused. "What exactly did she tell you?"

"That you and the other Lieutenant Saotome were very close, 'born at the same time, to the same parents', I think she said. So it makes sense that you'd copy your brother's style. Twins often do that, I'm told."

Ranma banged her forehead off the table. "Damn her."

"What? You and Ranma don't get along?"

"Do you try to be stupid? Minmay, can you bring me some hot water so I can wise this clown up?"

"Coming up."

The alert klaxon chose that moment to blare, and Misa's voice came over the PA system. "VFA-113, report to the flight deck. Scramble situation."

"Damn, didn't even get your phone number. Gotta run!" Max turned and dashed out the door. Ranma hesitated long enough to douse herself with hot water, adjust his uniform, and followed at a dead run.

* * *

"_Two Zentraedi warships, on radar._" Ichigyo looked worried. "_One of them is a troop transport, and it looks like it's launching units at this time._"

"How many?"

"_Dunno, my radar gave up._"

That was bad news; the VF-1S could track almost two hundred targets. If the Zentraedi were fielding that many bad guys...

"_Skull Leader, Cat's Eye Three Eleven. I make your target area at four hundred fifteen bogeys._"

"_Jesus._"

Ranma clicked his mike open again. "What type, Three Eleven?"

"_Male forces. Battle Pods, mostly._"

"_Thank God for small mercies._"

"Lead, Thirteen. Recommend that you whistle up some reinforcements."

"_Good idea. Gunsight One, Skull Lead. Request additional forces._"

"_Roger that, Skull Lead. We are prepping Wolf Squadron and Blue Squadron to assist._"

_And we're currently matching Windsor Squadron's speed. A total of seventy-two Valkyries,_ mused Ranma. _Still not nearly enough._

"_Skull and Windsor, we're going for a massive missile bombardment, every weapon you've got._" Ichigyo was setting up the targeting parameters as he spoke; Ranma noted his battle computer taking up its share of the load. "_We'll have to use guns up close and personal, but it's our best chance to knock that mess down before the furball starts. Set it up._"

_Macross_ began throwing flak towards the incoming horde, and Battle Pods started vanishing from his screen. He began punching target data into the computer, isolating twelve pods, and hastily set up a firing pattern. Checked his range; fifty kilometers, well within the ballistic range of the GA-23. But he held his fire, waiting for the order. Range dropped to forty kilometers, then thirty, before the order came.

"_Skull Squadron, open fire._"

Ranma stabbed the commit button, and over the radio, yelled, "Golf Two!" Missiles began to launch from his fighter, one every second, until the racks were clear. Around him, Skull and Windsor matched his actions, and a total of four hundred thirty-two Diamondback missiles went howling downrange. _One for each of the approaching units, but they just might have jammers--_

White noise flooded the radar screen, and he lost telemetry to the missiles. But their backup infrared guidance was still active, and the Battle Pods were giant heat sources. He reconfigured to GERWALK, slowing his approach speed, and waited.

Detonations filled the sky ahead of them.

"_Awright!_"

"_Skull Lead, Three Eleven. I show around two hundred fifty kills from that salvo. Target count is down to one hundred fifty-five._"

"_Skull Lead, Gunsight One. We are stopping the flak, and the Wolves are now launching._"

"_Skull and Windsor, Skull Lead. Let's take the fight to them._"

And the furball was on. Skull Fourteen and Fifteen, both cherries, tabbed their overthrusters, and Ranma fell in behind them. They were out of range when they opened up with the lasers, but Fourteen - a fellow named Roberts, rather loud and friendly - managed to tag a Battle Pod, dazzling its sensors and forcing it from the fray. Then the Valkyries were mixed in with the Pods, at point-blank range, and Ranma found himself hard-pressed to keep them in his sight.

Fifteen managed to get two of the Fighter Pods on his six, and Ranma lined up the first, and pulled the gun trigger. To get nothing; he howled in frustration. _The damned Redshirts musta forgotten to plug in the gun again!_ He flipped the arming ring over to the dogfighting lasers, and blasted the pod, but the other one fired into Skull Fifteen, and the fighter began losing altitude. Ranma roasted the other Pod, then noted with relief that Fifteen had punched out of his doomed fighter.

"Lead, Thirteen, I have suffered a failure on my GU-11. Manual controls still probably work, but I can't use the gun in Fighter Mode."

"_Noted, Thirteen._"

He doubted that Ichigyo would come up with any changes in their tactics to deal with this issue; he was still too new at this. But he'd get better with practice.

Then he noted that the enemy pods were pulling out.

"What the hell?"

"_Gunsight One, Skull Lead. The enemies are falling back._"

"_Jesus, six more cap ships!_"

"_Who said that?_"

"_Skull Lead, Skull Seven. We've got six more Zentraedi capital ships joining up with the first two._"

"_Where did they come from? Gunsight One, Skull Lead. Request fire support._"

But it was obvious that that would not be forthcoming. As Ranma watched, the air around _Macross_ rippled in a spherical pattern. The Barrier was coming online.

"_Skull Lead, Gunsight One. You and Windsor are to carry out suppression of enemy air defences. Concentrate on the command cruiser._"

"_Gunsight One, Skull and Windsor are both out of missiles._"

"_Use guns. They can't target your Valkyries with their gun turrets, once you're on the decks._"

"_All right, boys, you heard the lady. By elements, break and attack the gun turrets._"

Ranma shifted to GERWALK, the gun fitting into the Valkyrie's fist, and glanced over at Roberts' jet. "Fourteen, I have lead for this; it's my specialty."

"_Roger that, Charlie._" Roberts used the alternate call sign for Skull Thirteen.

Ranma firewalled the engines, and dove towards the Zentraedi command cruiser. He flipped the radar over to ground-attack mode, and it promptly complained about his lack of missiles. Well, it wasn't _his_ fault. He started locking up gun turrets, selected the closest one, and fired into it with the GU-11.

A single twenty-round burst was all that was needed to put the gun out of commission.

_Maybe this will work after all._

There were still Battle Pods deployed, on close escort on the Zentraedi ships, and he shifted to Soldier Mode and waxed one. "Keep an eye out; they've still got Pods loose around here."

"_Roger._"

The turrets around him began belching fire, and he was relieved to note that Misa was right; they weren't targeting the Valkyrie. Unfortunately, it seemed they were targeting _Macross_. The beams were distorted by the Barrier, bending away from the ship. But not without effect; the Barrier flared under the impact.

"_Skull Lead, Gunsight One. The Barrier is absorbing some of the energy, and the Zentraedi are firing too quickly for the Barrier to cool down. We need you to take out more of the guns._"

Ranma blasted another gun turret, then targeted a third and shifted to GERWALK to head towards it. "Gunsight One, Skull Thirteen. I don't think we can take them down fast enough. There's a hell of a lot of guns."

Another volley of fire hammered _Macross_ from the Zentraedi fleet, and Ranma could now see the barrier field glowing reddish-orange.

"_Too late. The Barrier's now on a runaway overload. Get clear, now!_"

"_All right, ladies. You heard the boss. Maximum speed out of here._"

"_Boss!_" Kakizaki's face appeared on the MFD. "_Skull Nine is down, and can't get clear. He's lost one powerplant, and the other is outta reaction mass; on air only, his top speed is too low._"

"_How the hell could he run out of reaction mass? We've only been airborne for--_"

"_Battle damage, Skull Lead. I need to make pickup--_"

"_No time!_"

"_Dammit, he's_ my _man!_"

Kakizaki rolled his bird inverted, and pulled it through a Split-S, diving back towards the downed Valkyrie. Ranma cursed, and toggled his channel.

"Skull Charlie, get clear. Skull Lead, I'm assisting Bravo."

"Saotome--"

Ranma ignored him, pulled his own fighter around, and firewalled the engines. He shifted to GERWALK, slid in beside Kakizaki, and assisted him in getting Skull Nine's nose detached.

"I'll get him out of here. You cover us."

"_My man, Saotome._"

"Button it, Kakizaki. I've got a Block Two, and fifteen percent more acceleration. Cover us!"

Kakizaki turned and started loosing twenty-round bursts, encouraging the enemy combat robots to remain under cover. Ranma discarded his gun pod, and attached the nosecone section to his centerline pylon. He rammed the throttles forward again, triggering his overthrusters, and slid along the hull until he had enough airspeed to lift off.

"Skull Seven, let's go."

"_I can't. Artillery Pod. I'm keeping him pinned down, but until you get out of his missile range--_"

"Move it, _now!_"

Kakizaki hesitated, then turned and fired his thrusters to boost his Soldier-Mode Valkyrie clear of the deck. He shifted his bird to Jet Mode, and surged forward.

The Barrier overloaded.

The shockwave raced towards them, consuming seven of the eight Zentraedi warships. Idly, Ranma noted the one they'd just left clawing for altitude, struggling to get out of the energy wake. It was shielding his Valkyrie from the blast, and he angled up to keep himself in its shadow.

But the vibrations of the explosion was rattling his jet, and Kakizaki's. As he watched, Skull Seven lost control, and slipped out of the blast shadow.

The energy wave tore the fighter apart.

"_Kakizaki! Come in! Dammit--_"

"I'm sorry, Hikaru." Ranma swallowed heavily. "He didn't make it."


	21. Chapter Twenty: Degrees of Attraction

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Twenty: Degrees of Attraction**

**July 7th, 2010**

_Science and Technology Report_

_Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_The Macross EVE System_

_In the wake of the disaster over Hamilton, the civilian presence aboard_ Macross _has been accepted, by both military and private sector groups, as a fact of life. Unless a significant development occurs, the civilians aboard the ship will remain aboard for the forseeable future._

_Because of this, the decision was made to upgrade the existing Environmental Variation Emulation (EVE) system. Previously, the system could simulate the motion of the sun, and could provide variation in temperature and airflow to mimic weather patterns. The upgrades include the ability to affect humidity, even to the extent of producing fog. Holographic projectors have been used to create an illusion of a sky overhead, blocking out the deckheads above. They have been upgraded, to allow for simulated clouds, and even for illusory birds or aircraft._

_The intent of this system is to provide a more Earthlike environment to the refugees. In order to maintain morale and--_

* * *

A fist slammed down on the table, directly on the report that Ranma was reading. He paused, set down his teacup, and looked up at the angry face of one Ling Kaifunn.

"Yo." He indicated the irate young man's fist. "I was in the middle of readin' that."

"I'm amazed that a soldier can read at all," sneered Kaifunn. "I heard that you were in charge when Hamilton was blown up."

"I am the second-in-command of the Jolly Rogers, VFA-113, and was therefore airborne during that mission," said Ranma. "However, the position of Two-Eye-Cee is to command one flight - six airplanes - or to command the Squadron if the Squadron Lieutenant - that would be Ichigyo Hikaru - is currently engaged in Company-level command. Which he was. Therefore, my area of command was eighteen jets."

"So you _did_ have command--"

"I repeat: Of eighteen jets. Company Command was in the hands of Commander Roberto Esteves, CO of the Wolves. Our Company answers to the CAG, which at the time we didn't have, so we answered to the Tactical Operations Officer, Commander Hayase Misa. And she answers to the Captain.

"We do _not_ have command over the enemy. _They_ chose to attack us."

"But your precious Tactical Officer chose to activate that shield, that overloaded and blew up Hamilton."

Ranma was starting to regret Captain Global's "Open Window" policy. "I'm not denying that it was a terrible disaster--"

"One that the military caused, by using untested technology. Again."

Ranma scowled. "The aliens attacked us. We couldn't preserve the lives of those aboard the ship without--"

"Seventy thousand lives. Twenty thousand of them military, and therefore expendable. Against the three _hundred thousand_ killed in the explosion."

"You can argue figures if you want, pal." Ranma scowled. "But do it with someone who gives a damn what you think."

"It comes down to the same thing it always does. The military acted without thinking, and the civilians paid for it with their lives."

Ranma casually glanced around the room. _Two Skulls...they won't do, the Brass will assume they're just sticking up for me...Ah, a Logistics Officer. Perfect._

He stood up slowly, and crossed his arms. "Well, at least we acted. We didn't just sit back safe on the ship, whining like a coward."

Kaifunn gaped. His face flushed red, and he balled his fists. "I won't take that kind of insult from a sex-changing freak like you."

_Soul of Ice, Ranma. It wouldn't do to lose control just now._

"It must really piss you off, Ling, that I've got bigger balls while female than you do at any time. Eh?"

That was enough to push Kaifunn over the edge. He snarled, and threw a punch at Ranma.

But Ranma was already moving. One arm came up and deflected the shot. He turned, and the other arm came around, the elbow connecting with the side of Kaifunn's head. Kaifunn staggered to the side, one hand coming up to cradle his head where Ranma had struck it.

Ranma's eyebrows rose. "I'm impressed, Kaifunn. I thought that blow woulda put you right down, like the spineless wuss that you are. I guess there's nothin' but rocks between your ears."

Kaifunn roared, and charged him again. Ranma noted the increase in speed in the man's motions. _Guess he was holdin' back. Maybe I won't have to...much._

Kaifunn threw four quick punches, a standard Shotokan combo that Ranma dodged with ease. _If he follows that kata, next will be a snap-kick--_ He parried it easily. _Then another punch--_

He was forced to take a hop-step back, as Kaifunn followed up with a crescent kick instead of the expected punch. _Great, he knows when to drop the playbook._ He parried another punch, ducked under a hook, then sidestepped a Mantis Kick. _Damn, even I can't do one of them easily._

The Skulls had stood up and were cheering Ranma loudly, but the Logistics Officer was talking on his wrist commo, and Ranma estimated he had sixty seconds before the MPs arrived.

"Look at the pacifist now," he jeered. "You're willin' to talk the talk, but as soon as the winds change, you hoist the Jolly Roger."

He went on the offensive, stepping in and bringing a high-arc axe kick down on Kaifunn's foot. The young man howled in pain.

"Well, _this_ Jolly Roger is gonna put you on the floor."

He dodged another punch, used the momentum to snap through a pivot kick. His boot slammed into Kaifunn's ribcage, and he felt something snap under his foot. But Kaifunn stayed up.

Enough was enough. Ranma feinted another pivot kick, then stepped in to point blank range. His fist blurred to Amaguriken speed, and he delivered twenty carefully-metered blows to Kaifunn's body. As nasty as the Amaguriken was, it sounded even nastier, as his fist exceeded the speed of sound on each punch, producing a nice, satisfying _crack_ to accompany each blow. Kaifunn staggered backwards, coughing blood, and collapsed to the floor.

Ranma turned as two MPs burst through the door, stun pistols drawn. He indicated the unconscious Kaifunn.

"He started it."

* * *

"You know," said Nabiki conversationally, "I'm seeing more of you recently than Ranma has. And since Jackson was installed as the new CAG, there's no real reason for you two not to resume where you left off."

"I know," said Misa. "But honestly...I feel like there's a wall between us now. He's closed up towards me, and I don't know why."

Nabiki snorted. "Probably because you turned all frosty on him."

"Maybe..."

Nabiki rolled her eyes. "Oh, this is somehow all so familiar...I remember. It's just how Ranma and Akane used to dance around the issue." She leaned forward, and grinned. "I can tell you how to break that wall down."

"How?"

Nabiki held out a hand. "Fifty credits."

Misa made a face, and pulled a crednote from her uniform pocket.

Nabiki made the note vanish, and said, "You know that the movie they made - 'Little White Dragon', I think it's called - is opening tonight?"

"Wait...that's fifty creds worth of advice? Take him to a movie?" Misa held her hand out. "Gimme back my fifty."

"Martial arts flick, the sort of thing he'd really like. And would you have thought of it on your own?"

Misa scowled. "I despise you."

"I know." Nabiki drained her tea, and stood up. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Sure."

* * *

"Damn, she's hot."

Ranma looked up in puzzlement. "Uh?"

"Other side of the road, there." Max indicated the woman. Long hair, dyed green - odd colours were in fashion, as Max himself demonstrated with his blue hair. And while long hair was in, this woman's hair reached down to the small of her back - no mean feat to keep that sort of mane in control. She wore a simple white blouse with a green vest, the lace-up kind, and dark green pants.

"Why not go ask her out?"

"Aw, no, I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

Max shrugged. "She's hot, and I'm not. At best, she'll laugh at me."

Ranma rolled his eyes. "Ya know, Max, humility's good an' all, but you take it too far."

"What do you mean?" Max tore his eyes away from the green-haired beauty to stare at his commanding officer quizzically.

"I mean, you ain't too hard on the eyes, and ya clean up halfway decent. Besides, looks ain't everythin'. Ya never know, you might be just what the girl's lookin' for." He pointed a finger at Max. "But if ya don't ask her, you'll never know."

"So...just walk up to the girl and ask her out?"

"Why not?" Ranma shrugged. "The worst she can do is laugh at ya, right?"

"Well, that wouldn't exactly make me feel good about myself," said Max.

"At this stage, she don't know jack about you. So she couldn't really be laughin at _you_, since she don't know you."

"Still--"

"What a wimp," muttered Ranma. "Look, I'm gonna do you a huge favour, all right? Don't ask me why, since you've been largely a pain in the ass for me."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't thank me just yet. I'm gonna go ask her to join us for a coffee. You go grab us a place at Variation." Ranma turned and walked towards the green-haired woman.

Max sighed, and walked into the cafe. He spotted a likely spot - a table, with four chairs, by the window - and headed over to it. He sat down nervously, and waited.

A waitress approached. "What can I get for you, Sir?"

"Nothing yet, thanks," said Max. "I'm waiting for two others."

"Ranma and Hikaru?"

Max looked up. Commander Hayase was standing next to the waitress.

"Um, Ranma, yes. But not Hikaru. He's buried under some paperwork, Ma'am."

"I thought I saw Ranma walking off, but since he pointed you this way, I assumed he'd be back," mused the Commander. "I wanted to get ahold of him...who else is joining you?"

"A girl. Don't know her name."

It must have been his imagination, but Hayase's face seemed to freeze. Certainly, her voice dropped a few degrees.

"A girl. What did she look like?"

"Oh, just about the second most attractive woman I've ever seen in my life." Max leaned back, and smiled. "Long hair, toned body, moves like a tigress on the hunt..."

"Indeed." Hayase scowled. "And why is it that Lieutenant Saotome was talking to her?"

"He was going to ask her to join us for a coffee."

"That _bastard!_"

Max blinked. "Ma'am--"

But the Commander had already turned and stormed out of the cafe.

"Oh, shit. Ranma's gonna kill me."

* * *

"Yo."

The girl turned to face him, and he was a bit surprised. She wasn't as young as she looked. At least, her eyes showed a depth of pain and experience that he wouldn't have expected.

"Can I help you?"

Ranma cleared his throat, struck by the intensity of her gaze. "Yeah. Me an' my buddy Max noticed you--well, Max noticed you. I kinda had my mind on somethin' else. Anyway, he wanted to invite you to join us for a cup of coffee."

"Then why isn't he asking me?" She seemed a bit amused by that.

"Well, he's kinda shy. Great fighter pilot, but--"

"Indeed." Her expression shifted again. Interest, and...something else. "How great?"

Ranma chuckled. "I mean, he ain't as good as me, but--"

"But every fighter pilot makes that claim."

"Well, yeah."

"Is his airplane one of those decorated with a Skull?"

Ranma tapped his shoulder patch. "You mean like this one? Yeah, he's a member of the Jolly Rogers."

"As you are." The woman considered, then asked, "How many kills?"

"Max? He's got..." Ranma frowned as he tried to remember. Typically of fighter pilots, he didn't pay much attention to anyone's kills but his own, but as the Squadron XO, he'd seen the scoreboards. "I think he's got over thirty now. Ace of Aces."

"Against what sort of targets?"

"Oh, lots of Battle Pods and Fighter Pods. Not an Officer's Pod - nobody's gotten one of them yet. You don't need to repeat that, though. It's classified. He's tangled with the female-type Power Armour, too. Not many people who have have lived to boast of it."

The woman considered that, then asked, "How would you characterize his piloting?"

"Well, he fights like a demon. You'd never know it, though, if you watched him during a fight. Looks like he's doin' a tax form or somethin'. He doesn't really seem to think about it; it just happens."

The woman nodded, and said, "Yes, I think I'd not mind meeting him."

"Great." Ranma grinned. "By the way, can I get your name?"

"Milia."

She pronounced the middle consonant in Japanese fashion, halfway between an _l_ and an _r_, much as Ranma pronounced his own initial. But the name sure didn't sound Japanese.

"Where are you from, Milia?"

"Ranma!"

He turned, to see a very angry Misa charging towards him. "Oh, hell."

She stopped in front of him, and scowled at him. "Mind telling me what's going on?"

"I--"

"How _dare_ you! I come looking for you, to try to patch things up, and you've already moved on to some--"

"It ain't what it looks like!" _This sure sounds familiar._

"Really? It looks to me like you're asking this girl to have a cup of coffee with you."

"Well, yeah, I am, but because--"

"I can't believe this!" She was almost screaming now, the propriety of the situation completely outside her grasp. _That_ worried Ranma; when propriety ceased to matter to Misa, it meant her emotions were completely engaged, and right now, the emotion in question was obviously anger. "You tell me that you're not going to look for anyone else, and then I find you--" Words seemed to escape her for a moment, but before Ranma could get a word in edgewise, she found new ones. "Or was this just a temporary thing, to tide you over? You fighter jocks are all the same!"

Oddly, Milia seemed to take some exception to that, and stepped forward to face Misa. "Excuse me. Do you know Max?"

"Uh?" Misa seemed taken aback at Milia's approach, but recovered in seconds. "I'm not interested in making small talk with you."

"You might recall some basic manners, young lady." Milia's eyes narrowed. "I repeat: Do you know Max?"

"Yes. So what?"

"Ranma - That is your name?" He nodded, and Milia turned back to Misa. "Ranma was attempting to interest me in meeting one of his fellow pilots, a person named Max. I am not certain why you are angry with him."

That seemed to shut Misa up. She stared at the other woman, then back at Ranma. Finally, she managed to say, "Is that true?"

"Yeah." Ranma couldn't keep the disgust from his voice. "An' if ya'd stopped to listen ta me, ya woulda known it earlier."

"I--"

"Ya didn't stop ta listen, ya just decided that ya already knew the answer, and barged ahead with the accusations." He knew it was bitterness driving him now, but he didn't care. "I thought I'd gotten past all that crap when I left Nerima, but no. It's followed me here."

"I'm sorry."

He snorted. "At least that's changed. All right, I assume you were lookin' for me for somethin'?"

"Yes." She hung her head. "I was going to try to...to make things better between us, but I've gone and made them worse."

"Naw. Just pushed the wrong buttons, is all." He sighed, his anger spent. "Let's take Milia to go meet Max, and then we can grab a coffee."

"I think perhaps that I should...pass...at this time," said Milia. "I don't want to be a point of contention."

"I think it'd be better if I take ya to meet Max, just to prove my point." He considered. "Or better yet..." He pointed towards the cafe. "He's in there. Look for blue hair. Misa, why don't we go over to Ben's? I'm on the first day of a three-day pass, so I can have a pint."

"Okay." Misa sounded defeated.

"Milia, been nice to meet ya. Oh, an' like I said, Max is shy, so don't expect a lot outta him at first."

"It should not matter." Milia smiled, though to Ranma's mind, it looked a bit...predatory. She turned and walked towards the cafe.

"Jeez, I sure hope Max knows what he's gettin' into," mused Ranma.

Misa still looked downcast. "I'm really sorry, Ranma."

"It's all right." He waved it off. "I'm used to this sorta crap by now."

"But you shouldn't have to be," she said. "I just did the same sort of thing that you complained Akane did all the time. The sort of thing that _I_ complained that Akane did. God, I'm such a hypocrite."

Ranma sighed. "Misa, Akane didn't have a trademark on misunderstandin', or she'd have been an awful lot richer. An' it ain't like ya malleted me or nothin'." He jerked a thumb down the road. "Let's go get that pint. You look like ya need it as much as I do."

* * *

"So...where are you from?"

Milia frowned. "Quite some distance from here, of course." She hesitated, then said, "Yokohama."

"Really? You don't look Japanese."

"Is everyone from Yokohama Japanese?"

Max sighed. "Good point. I suppose that, like any big city, they've got a foreign population."

She seemed relieved at that response, then asked, "What about you?"

"Oh, Bristol, originally, but I spent most of my teenage years in California."

"I've never been to either."

Silence fell again, then Max asked, "What do you do for fun?"

"Computer simulations of robotic combat. I believe the common term for it is, 'video games.'"

Max chuckled. "That arcade down near the base? Figures. It's really popular. Do you do well?"

"I believe so, yes. The programs allow one who scores well to enter their initials to record their victory. I have the number one spot on six programs."

"MPF?" He leaned forward in surprise. "You're MPF?"

"Milia Parino Fallyna, yes."

He chuckled. "Yours are the scores to beat. I play there a lot, and I think I've only beaten your high scores on two machines."

"So you would be MSJ."

"Yeah, Maximilian Scott Jenius."

She smiled, though for some reason it made him feel wary. "Would you say that the simulations are accurate representations of actual robotic combat?"

"Reasonably. They're dumbed down, of course, because they're meant to be games, not actual simulators."

"Do you pilot a Valkyrie?"

"Yep." He grinned.

"One with two lasers in the turret?"

"Eh? No," he admitted. "That'd be a Jaybird or a Delta, probably a Jaybird. I fly an Alpha. My Squadron XO flies a Jaybird. But two out of every Squadron's birds are J-type Valkyries."

"And how many of them carry the Skull?"

"The only two Jaybirds with Skulls were Skull Seven and Skull Thirteen. Skull Seven died two weeks ago."

"How did he die?"

"Well, you remember that the Barrier overloaded and destroyed Hamilton?"

"Yes, I recall hearing someone talking about that," she said. "He was most upset about it, about the loss of life."

"Hayao was one of those who died. He was trying to rescue a downed pilot, and the XO - Ranma - was covering him. Hayao's Jaybird was a Block One, and didn't have as much engine power as the Block Two that Ranma drives. So Ranma extracted the pilot, and Hayao covered him to get out. He got caught in the blast, and was killed."

"At least he died nobly," she said.

"Doesn't matter. He's still dead."

"Why the interest, though?" He tilted his head. "I mean, in the Jaybird?"

She hesitated, then said, "I had witnessed one of these machines in action, and was hoping to meet the pilot."

"Well, if it's Hayao, I'm afraid that you won't be meeting him any time soon. If it's Ranma, you've already met him."

"I am uncertain which of the two it might have been. It was more than two weeks ago."

"Well..." He finished his coffee, then said, "Since you play video games, would you be interested in playing against me?"

"I think not." She stood, leaving her coffee half-finished. "You are not who I am looking for." She turned and walked out of the cafe without another word.

Max shivered. "Ouch. Guess a second date's out of the question."

* * *

"I wouldn't say it was a propaganda flick," laughed Misa.

"I didn't say it was, either," said Ranma. "Just that it was so obviously based on current events that it might as well have been." He grinned. "You seemed to enjoy the action scenes. Especially those with Kaifunn in them."

"Well, he is a treat for the eyes," admitted Misa. "Pity he's such a bonehead."

"He picked a fight with me at the White Dragon."

"I know," said Misa. "I read the after-action report. It might not have been the smartest thing he could have done."

"Yeah, and--" He blinked. "Hey, Max!"

Max looked a bit downcast, but waved to him. "Ranma. Commander Hayase."

"I'm off duty, Lieutenant. You can call me Misa."

"Where's your lady friend?"

Max snorted. "She decided that I wasn't what she was looking for, and left."

"Oh." Misa raised her hand to her cheek. "I'm sorry, Max. That's rather cold, isn't it."

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I see you two got that little misunderstanding I caused ironed out."

"Not your fault, Max, set your mind at ease on that." Ranma waved it off. "And here comes Hikaru."

"Don't you two clowns have work to do?" Hikaru grinned. "Some flick, eh?"

"Yeah," said Ranma. I expected you to be heading to the cast party with Minmay."

"She's got some business to take care of first, she said. Then she'd meet me out front." He indicated Ranma and Misa, who were arm in arm. "I see you two patched things up."

"Well, we were never really broken up," said Misa. "Just on hiatus until Jackson was confirmed as CAG. Which reminds me." She dug into her pocket, and tossed a small package to Max. "Here. Compliments of Squadron Lieutenant Ichigyo."

"What the hell...?" Max opened the box, to reveal a rank pip. Added to his currently blank rank bar, it made him a Squadron Lieutenant.

"This is a field brevet," said Misa. "It has to be confirmed by a board, but we don't have time to assemble a board. We received sixty new pilots and twenty additional Valkyries over the last two weeks - a hell of a lot more reinforcement than we expected - and they're all green as grass. So you're getting four from Ranma's Flight, five from the Wolves, and two from Windsor. Plus Lieutenant Park, Warrant Goldsmith, and four nuggets from the transferees. Congratulations, Mr. Jenius, you've got a Squadron."

"Holy fuck," breathed Max. Then blushed. "Sorry, Ma'am."

"I've got your brief on my desk...somewhere," said Hikaru.

"VFA-121. We've reactivated the Diamondback colours for your Squadron. Call sign Snake."

"Ma'am, I've not even had a Flight before," said Max. "I'm not sure I'm up to this."

"Suck it up, soldier," snapped Ranma. "You've got orders. You don't like 'em? All you can do is register a formal complaint, put on the damn pip, and do your best."

"Complaint? I don't think so." Max snapped to attention and saluted him, caps notwithstanding. "Thank you, Sir."

"You don't gotta 'Sir' me anymore, Max." He grinned. "Now, since I still got two more days of leave, why don't we hit--"

The alert klaxon chose that moment to begin its raucous howling.

"Attack warning. Never mind, let's go!"

The foursome turned and ran down the corridor. Being somewhat taller, Max led the pack, but Ranma was close on his heels. Misa and Hikaru were lagging behind.

The corridor shifted, and Misa stumbled and fell. Hikaru stopped to help her up. Ranma slowed, and turned back, but the corridor broke in half, one side rising up rapidly.

"Aw, hell."

"We'll find another way around," yelled Misa. "You two get to the flight deck."

"Yes, Ma'am." Ranma turned and ran down the corridor.

* * *

"Hello, ugly," breathed Ranma.

The attack was not a full-force assault; the enemy had not even committed a capital ship, merely a legion of combat robots. But a quarter of the Battle Pods were artillery types, and in order to protect _Macross_ against their rockets, Global had ordered the modular transformation and the activation of the Barrier System.

Tactical orders were coming from Gunsight Four, also known as Shammy Milliome, Petty Officer. Which meant that Misa hadn't made it to the bridge yet. She obviously wasn't up to the challenge. Her orders were often self-contradicting, and she kept correcting herself. But against the light assault, the Valkyries were managing to hold their own.

But in and among the Battle Pods were a few Officer's Pods, and one in particular had caught his attention: A red-and-silver unit, its unique paint job setting it aside from the other Officer's Pods. He'd encountered that livery before, in the asteroid field.

And here was another, just like it. The Officer's Pod had blasted five Valkyries before Ranma reached it, and it was obvious from its posture that it was determined to make Ranma number six. He pickled off three missiles, but the Pod reacted with the same near-prescient reflexes, destroying each shot with last-minute bursts from the forward cannons. Then returned fire, forcing Ranma to yank and bank out of its firing arc.

_Same style, same reflexes...probably the same asshole. One of their aces._

He shifted to GERWALK mode, and started loosing burst after burst from the GU-11 towards the target, but it evaded them cleanly. He flipped the weapon selector over to the Coral Snake missiles, and fired a pair - one from each box - at the enemy Pod. They hit, but whatever it was using for armour wasn't overly concerned about a ten-kilo HEAP warhead.

And, as had happened once before, the entire enemy force suddenly turned as one and burned away, abandoning the attack completely. Ranma considered giving chase, but the opportunity was taken from him by Milliome's voice.

"_All units, recover aboard_ Macross_."_

He watched the enemy Battle Pod burn away at top speed, and snorted.

"I'll get you next time, pal."

* * *

_Macross_ had resumed its normal cruise configuration, and Ranma reconfigured to GERWALK to slide to a halt on the landing deck - a procedure that was still referred to as a 'trap', despite the lack of arrester hook and cable. He waited, fidgeting, until the liftlock had lowered his Valkyrie to the hanger deck, and popped the canopy.

"You brought it back in one piece, at least." WO Bell grinned. "Barely a mark on it."

"Yeah." Ranma pulled off his helmet. "You hear anythin' about Commander Hayase?"

"No, sorry."

Ranma frowned, and walked down the hallway. His office was posted conveniently near the flight deck, though not so near the ready room - an occasional source of complaint for him, but what could he do? There was only one adjacent office, and of course, that went to the Rogers' CO.

Paging an on-duty officer was considered bad form, but _Macross'_ commo system allowed for text-messaging, which would be read on demand and therefore not interfere with ship's operations. That done, he then turned his attention to his post-mission paperwork. _Seems I spend more time flyin' a friggin' desk than I do a jet,_ he thought. He'd managed to get six pages - screens, really - completed when his terminal beeped at him. He thumbed it over to communications.

"Ranma! How'd you do?"

He grinned. "Not too bad, Misa. Ran into an old friend. One of the Zentraedi Officer Pods. I duked it out with him shortly before our capture in the asteroid fields."

"Are you sure it was the same one?"

"Hell, yeah. He got away again, but next time, I'll take him down." He paused. "Shammy made a bit of a mess of the op, though. I take it you didn't make it to the bridge?"

"No, got trapped during reconfiguration." She smiled. "Hikaru led us down the wrong way, the big dope. Got us stuck in the middle of nowhere, and I couldn't get through on the wrist comm."

"So you and Ichigyo were trapped together for...what? Two hours?" He smirked. "I bet they hadda pick him up with a sponge."

"We managed to avoid coming to blows," she said. "You know, you're right about him. Once you get past the crap, he's an okay guy. Reminds me a lot of you."

* * *

"Given their past history," groused Ranma, "I would have expected stronger words for him than 'the big dope.'"

"She's probably telling the truth," said Nabiki. "You've always said that Hikaru isn't the jerk that Misa thinks. Perhaps she's realized this."

"Well, yeah, that's pretty much what she said." He paused to sip his tea. "But it set off...like, alarm bells. Ya know?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Ranma shrugged. "Sure."

"Why aren't you discussing this with _her?_"

"Well..." He shrugged. "I guess you're, like, a disinterested bystander. Ya know both of us pretty well, and I know you've helped Misa out."

"Hardly disinterested, brother dear." Nabiki set down her espresso. "Let me tell you something. When you first came to our house, I was the only one of the three of us who was interested in you."

He blinked. "Sure didn't seem that way to me."

"My life didn't have room for boys at the time," she said. "And I had a reputation as a mercenary to keep up. Daddy told us about this arranged marriage, and I thought to myself, 'Finally! A boy who doesn't know my rep!'"

She paused, and looked down at her hands. "But the reality turned out to be much stranger than I expected. The curse. The one-sided martial-arts-centric personality." She looked up again. "But I also learned that you didn't pre-judge people. You treated foreigners and Japanese alike, you weren't sexist - Akane thought you were, at first, but you'd sparred with her, discovered that she wasn't as good a martial artist as she thought she was. Of _course_ you'd leap to defend her; you loved her, and on top of that, it's the duty of a martial artist to protect the weak." She snorted. "Just that Akane hated being considered weak.

"And me. You put up with a lot of crap from me, but _never_ did you underestimate me. On top of that, you came to me when you needed help for things outside your realm of experience."

"What exactly are you sayin', Nabs?" Ranma felt a bit worried now. This really reminded him of an incident from back in their younger days.

Nabiki looked up, and grinned. "Don't call me that. You know how much I hate it."

"Sorry."

"Basically, brother dear, I'm saying that I love you." She raised a hand, forestalling his reply. "Not _that_ way. But I'll help you out, whenever you need it. You know that. Just don't dare call me disinterested."

"Okay." Ranma sighed. "So what should I do?"

"Simple." She picked up her espresso again. "Realize that you're being a jealous idiot. You know, a normal human being."

"Sure seems that way," he muttered.

"Then forgive yourself, and remember that you've got eight years experience on the little punk."

He snorted in amusement. But his amusement faded quickly as he remembered that Hikaru was a lot closer in age to Misa than he was.


	22. Chapter TwentyOne: Defection

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Twenty-One: Defection**

**July 14th, 2010**

_Goals and Intentions Report_

_Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_Zentraedi Culture_

_To date, the most information available on the Zentraedi culture has been gathered by five individuals: Commander Hayase Misa, Squadron Lieutenants Ichigyo Hikaru, Saotome Ranma and Maximilian Jenius, and Flight Lieutenant Kakizaki Hayao. These five were captured by the Zentraedi. Three were interrogated by the Zentraedi Commander-In-Chief, while two others, having eluded capture, attempted to blend into the Zentraedi populace while trying to locate and recover the other three. The data gathered by these five is, of course, incomplete, but paints an unpleasant picture._

_The Zentraedi appear to be a culture dedicated to warfare. This was already suspected, due to the nature of the compartments found aboard_ Macross _upon her arrival. However, intelligence gathered by Lt. Saotome suggests that_ Macross _was not originally a Zentraedi ship._

_Commander Vwritlai, of the Zentraedi, stated that_ Macross _was apparently a ship of a group called the Inspection Army, which he and his fleet were hunting. The presence of reconfigurable aircraft aboard_ Macross _upon her arrival, plus evidence of combat between the original inhabitants of the ship and combat robots now known to be Zentraedi, supports this theory. As the Zentraedi have stated that they have no purpose outside of warfare, it can be assumed, albeit tenuously, that this "Inspection Army" is the group against whom they fight._

_The Zentraedi also appear to be rigidly segregated, to the point that only their highest ranking officers of either gender may speak with each other. However, the two genders appear to be able to work together towards a common goal. It is unknown whether such co-operation is friction-free, nor is it known if we can use this factor against them. The means by which the Zentraedi procreate is also unknown._

_The Zentraedi officers spoke frequently of the dangers of mental contamination. Exposure to the opposite sex, or to 'Miclones', their term for humanoids of our stature, were stated as possible contaminants. Further, the Zentraedi Commander-In-Chief, Gar Bodolze, stated that any form of culture was also a source of contamination. The Zentraedi appear to have significant mental conditioning against such sources of contamination. Even mention of such things were sufficient to cause mental turmoil, and a demonstrated sign of affection - a kiss - was sufficient to render the Zentraedi officers, even their Commander-In-Chief, completely incapacitated._

_Finally, the Zentraedi appear to have found some means of altering their size. Lieutenant Saotome observed three Zentraedi who had been reduced to Miclone stature. Those three had been observed speaking with a female, proving that it is possible for the Zentraedi to work in a setting of integrated gender. However, what is not known is why the Zentraedi would use this ability, nor whether this means that they were originally Miclones, or originally giants._

_But their ability to become Miclones means that the possibility of espionage exists. As they appear fully human when reduced, it is probable that they could pass unnoticed among humans. Only their reactions to mental contamination - human society - would give them away._

* * *

The prow of the _Daedalus_ smashed into the Zentraedi destroyer, the Pin-Point Barrier system shielding the massive ship long enough to penetrate the enemy vessel's battle armour. But at that point, things started to go wrong.

"_Gunsight One, Sixth Cavalry! They were ready for us, they're pourin' into the ship and--_"

"Six-Five, come in!" Misa hammered her console. "Captain, they've been overrun, and intruder control reports that Zentraedi forces are boarding _Daedalus_."

Global scowled. "Order Windsor to make intercept."

"They'll be badly outnumbered, Sir. I suggest we call Skull in to assist as well."

"What about Blue?"

"Blue is still latched in the outer air battle, and while Snake is on the cats, the Skull is closer."

"All right, call them in."

"Aye, Sir." Misa turned and opened the Tac Net. "Skull Lead, Gunsight One. We have boarders at _Daedalus_. Return to ship and repel boarders."

"_Gunsight One, Skull Lead. Roger that, we are RTB, Buster._"

"Skull reports in, Captain, and they are heading back at top acceleration."

* * *

It was a nightmare. And he couldn't seem to wake up.

"_Starboard suburb has been completely evacuated, but the aliens are ripping the place up._"

"Roger that, Skull Leader. Third, I want a fire line along Moskva Prospeckt. We will attempt to contain the aliens to Starboard." Ranma's Flight was in GERWALK mode, dropping towards the city. Three of the nuggets reconfigured to Soldier, to take advantage of the cover, while the other two remained in GERWALK for the extra mobility.

"_Where the hell are Windsor?_" This complaint came from Rossikov, newly promoted to Skull Seven.

"_CD's a gravy post. They were probably caught with their pants down. Third Cav has already been beaten down pretty badly._"

Ranma noted the burned-out remains of a Spartan Destroid. The mostly-humanoid machine appeared to have suffered an ammunition explosion, most likely killing its crew, but the GU-11 gun pod was still clutched in its right hand. He jetted over to it, reconfigured to Battroid, and pried it free. The ammunition counter revealed over six hundred rounds still in its oversized magazine. He remembered a trick from the GU-11's service manual, and extended a waldo arm to flip the weapon over to fully automatic.

"_Contact, approaching from starboard, I've got sixteen Pods and one Officer's._"

"Who said that?"

"_Sorry, that was Skull Sixteen._"

_Keneth Blaine_, his mind filled in. _Welsh, enjoys painting and sketching._ "Concentrate fire on the Officer's Pod. Open up!"

Gunfire snarled from Third Flight's cannons, and was answered by massed particle cannon fire from the advancing enemy. The Officer's Pod ducked under cover, but not before Ranma got a glance at its livery.

_Him again!_

Then his radar went nuts. He glanced up to see rocket contrails arcing up from the enemy forces. "We got an Artillery Pod in there. Incoming rocket fire!"

The rockets were unguided, mere ballistic weapons, but on detonation released a cloud of ionized gas. Aside from its temperature, which was sufficient to burn the armour off of a Valkyrie, it also played havoc with their electronic systems. Valkyries scattered and dodged as the rockets descended on the line.

Ranma shifted back to GERWALK, jetted straight up and haloed the Artillery Pod. He thumbed his weapons guidance control, instructed a Jackhammer, and depressed the firing stud on his stick.

The ejectors kicked the GA-31B off its pylon, its engines lit off before it fell more than a meter, and it screamed towards the Artillery Pod. Inertial guidance was worthless at this range; he toggled his laser turret, and painted the Artillery Pod. The missile angled up for a second, tipped down, and disgorged its cargo of explosive submunitions.

Having fifteen over-sized hand grenades go off in mid-air all around you will wreck your entire day.

The Officer's Battle Pod leaped to the top of a nearby building, and opened up on him with all three particle cannons. He yelped and stomped left paddle, sliding his machine back towards cover. One beam struck his jet's left leg, and damage alarms went off in the cockpit. He struggled to regain control, sliding around behind a parking garage as he did, and shifted to Soldier Mode again. He braced the borrowed GU-11 along the top floor of the garage, centered the Pod in the targeting reticle - the camera mounted at the leading edge of the GU-11 making it as easy as lining up gunsights on a rifle - and held down the trigger.

He managed to keep the sights on the Pod for almost a second before it took cover, and was certain that at least fifty rounds struck the target. But it was still moving.

_Damn, they make those things tough!_

Then, to his amazement, the Officer's Pod emerged from cover to blast a Battle Pod.

It seemed to be some sort of signal of a change in the battle. The Zentraedi Pods ignored the Valkyries and began fighting among themselves. The Valkyrie pilots continued to hold their line, weapons at the shoulders, and watched as the enemy forces tore each other up.

"_Skull Thirteen, Lead. We've got somethin' weird going on in here._"

"Lead, Thirteen. Infightin' among the enemy?"

"_Yeah. What do you suggest?_"

Ranma shrugged - a wasted effort, over radio. "Let 'em. Makes our lives easier."

The Officer's Pod had charged off in some random direction, though it had not crossed their line. Ranma walked forwards slowly, gun pod at the ready, to where his Jackhammer had hit.

The Artillery Pod was a write-off, that much was clear, and its pilot covered in bloody shrapnel. He tried to ignore it; fifteen years in the service, and he _still_ hated to take a life. Better to see only the machines, the robots, and try to ignore that a living being operated them.

Two other Battle Pods had been in the blast area of the Jackhammer. One was just as obviously dead as the Artillery Pod, but the other seemed to have only lost a leg. As he approached, the hatch on the back of the Pod opened, and the pilot emerged.

Ranma aimed the gun pod at the giant, and clicked on his external speakers. "Don't move, pal, or I'll gun you down."

The Zentraedi responded in halting Basic. "Prisoner. Not fight."

Ranma felt that he was approaching his limit for surprises for the day. He clicked back onto the Tac Net. "Anyone bring a Valkyrie-scale set of handcuffs?"

* * *

**July 21st, 2010**

The buzzer woke her from a sound sleep. She muttered in protest, and the arm draped over Misa's waist tried to pull the taller woman back towards her.

"Sorry, hon. Priority signal. I've got to answer."

Misa stood up, grabbing a robe and pulling it over her shoulders. It was more for the warmth than any privacy; she brought the commo terminal online in voice-only mode.

"Commander Hayase."

"XO, this is Commander Tendo. Captain's compliments, Ma'am, and would you join us in Briefing A?"

"Yeah, sure." Misa sighed. "Gimme ten minutes to get dressed."

There was a brief pause. "It's thirteen thirty, Ma'am." It wasn't phrased as a question, but anyone could clearly hear a question mark at the end of the statement.

Misa allowed a trace of annoyance creep into her voice. "It is also the second day of a three-day furlough, Major, and do I need to make excuses for wanting to sleep in?"

"Of course not, Commander. My apologies." Another pause, then, "I tried to call Lieutenant Saotome at his quarters, but his roommate states that he hasn't been in all day. Before I have him paged, would you happen to know where he is?"

"Yes, I do. I'll comm him and let him know you're looking for him." Misa closed the commo link, and glanced back at the bed. "You've got ten minutes to shower and dress."

"You know, technically, Nabs outranks you," commented Ranma.

"I'm the boat's XO. She can cope."

"An' thanks for tryin' to cover for me, but don't think for a second that you fooled her." She crawled out of the bed and shivered. Misa's quarters were always a degree or two cooler than she liked. "Where did I leave my uniform?"

* * *

The looks they were getting from the various assembled officers bothered Ranma, but he could hardly say anything about it. He glanced around briefly. Colonel Maistrov, Nabiki, the Skipper, Chief Engineer Lang, and Major Jackson were present, as was one of Nabs' girls. In one corner stood the Colonel in charge of the Destroid forces, a tall Spanish gentleman named Luis Alvaro. In addition, there were three other men that he didn't recognize, but something about their outfits - shapeless shifts of some sort - tickled his memory.

He snapped off a salute to the various brass. "Lieutenant Saotome, reporting as ordered."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Global indicated a seat at the table. "If you would...?"

"Thank you, Sir." Ranma walked over to the chair. The door slid open again, and Misa walked through, and reported-as-ordered as well.

Her memory was somewhat sharper than Ranma's, and she gaped at the threesome in the rough clothing. "What the hell are _they_ doing here?"

"Uh?" Ranma turned and looked at the threesome again. "Oh! Now I remember where I've seen those outfits before!"

"Commander Hayase, Lieutenant Saotome, these three people are Warera Nantes, Konda Bromco, and Roli Dosel. Late of the Zentraedi Armoured Infantry, Botoru Battalion, First Division, Electronic Warfare."

All three of them looked rather stunned, and Ranma realized, uncomfortably, that they were staring at Misa the way that most people stared at Minmay.

"It's Miss Macross!"

_Oh. That's why._

Misa, for her part, was now a touch embarrassed. "I'm First Officer of the _Macross_, and head of PR. Public Relations."

They stared at her blankly.

"Never mind." She sighed, then turned to the Captain. "So what exactly are these three doing here?"

The Captain's mustache twitched, as though he were suppressing a grin. "They have defected."

"Eh?"

"Apparently, they came aboard _Macross_ several months ago as spies. Their orders were to acquire intelligence about our culture, and report back to their superiors." Nabiki paused, and grinned. "It seems that Bodolze's concern about culture being a contaminant was correct. These three became...well, contaminated, and spread that throughout their fleet."

"Lemme guess," said Ranma. "There's more than these three, and they're already aboard the ship."

"Never should have called you stupid," mused Nabiki. "Yes, that is essentially correct. The Zentraedi you captured told us of the mass defection. Something like a hundred Zentraedi, all Micloned, have left their fleet and are living in secret aboard the ship. And have been for most of a week. We only found out about this a few days ago, through interrogation of your prisoner. And then these three showed up, claiming political asylum."

"Okay." Ranma finally took the seat that had been offered him. "And where does our giant prisoner fit into this scheme?"

"He has also requested political asylum," said Nabiki. "From our interrogation of him, we have learned that the Zentraedi use a device called a recloning chamber to change their size. Torakajiide was a Recloning Technician, but he was the only one such who was willing to defect. He could not teach any of the Zentraedi how to operate the recloning chamber."

"Ah." Ranma nodded. "And since he was full-sized, he was the only defector who really stood out."

"He could not avoid capture, no." Global spoke up for the first time. "However, once he learned that we were willing to discuss terms with the defectors, he gave us the names of their ringleaders." The Captain indicated the three Zentraedi at the table. "These three."

"Wait!" Misa stood up again, a surprised look on her face. "Are you saying that we're actually considering taking these people in?"

"Yes."

"Sir, all due respect, I think that that's a mistake."

Roli turned to face her. "Miss Macross, I can understand--"

"Aside from my position as the ship's Public Relations Officer, I am also the XO," said Misa. "And properly, my name is Commander Hayase."

"I apologize, Commander Hayase. No insult was intended."

"None taken."

"I can understand your reluctance to allow a force of enemies, even those who have forsworn the Zentraedi Imperative, to reside in this ship. As a former intelligence officer, I know that the idea of having potential...what is the Basic word? Sleeper agents."

Misa shook her head. "I'm not concerned so much about that as I am about logistics. _Macross_ has a limited amount of supplies, and an extra hundred mouths to feed will put a strain on our food stores."

Lang spoke up at that. "Mr. Torakajiide may be able to assist us on that. As a cloning technician, he did more than simply operate the recloning chamber. He was also responsible for food production aboard his ship."

Ranma snorted. "A farmer?"

"No, Lieutenant Saotome. Food in the Zentraedi fleet is grown hydroponically, as we do with our own vegetables, but for protein sources - the very thing we are most likely to run low on - they also relied on cloning. The closest English term might be, 'carniculture.'"

"And how does that help us," asked Misa.

"We have cloning facilities on this ship," said Lang. "And Mr. Torakajiide can assist me in their operation, as they are similar enough to the Zentraedi's for him to learn them."

"So you see, Lieutenant," said Roli, "We are willing to do our part."

"There are a few other issues," said Jackson. "Which is why we've called this staff meeting. Another that needs to be considered is the fact that a good portion of our ship's population have fought the Zentraedi. Twenty-two thousand soldiers on this ship. They might not take well to finding themselves face-to-face with a Zentraedi soldier...and since the defectors are all our size now, and frequently a fair bit smaller--" He indicated Roli, who was shorter than even Ranma. "Well, they might just take it out on them."

"And Miss Hayase's comments beside the point," said Maistrov, "my own department is also concerned about sleeper agents."

"At the time that we called you," said Global, "This board was split. Myself, Chief Lang, and Commander Tendo all favoured granting asylum. Major Jackson, Colonel Maistrov and Colonel Alvaro were against it. Therefore, we have called in three additional officers. Commander Hayase, you are here because of your position as XO of the ship. Lieutenant Saotome, because you have spoken directly to the Zentraedi Commander-In-Chief. And Lieutenant Toyoshima, because she was the one to track these three down."

"Well, it ain't a hard choice," said Ranma. "But Major Jackson's concerns about their security is valid. How do we keep 'em safe from the grunts who just wanna beat them up?"

"My suggestion," said Jackson, "was to create an intern camp in one of the unused compartments in the ship."

"I agree," said Maistrov. "Though not for Mr. Jackson's more humanitarian reasons. They should be kept separate from the human population for _our_ protection, not theirs."

"Captain, all due respect to my superior." Nabiki looked as though the words tasted bad in her mouth. "The Zentraedi defectors came here in the hopes of joining our society. Locking them up in an intern camp would give them reason to feel that they've not been treated rightly." Her mouth twitched. "As any Japanese-American would know."

"As for the issues of hostility towards the defectors," chimed in Misa, "I am certain that my department - possibly with the assistance of the Lings - would be able to defuse that."

"Miss Toyoshima, anything to add?"

Toyoshima glanced at her boss, then over to the head of her section. "No, Captain."

"Very well. Miss Hayase, your vote?"

"I say let them stay." There was no hesitation in Misa's voice.

"Miss Toyoshima?"

"I think that the intern camp would be a better idea." Toyoshima shook her head. "I think Mr. Jackson is correct, in that we can trust _them_, but not our own soldiers."

Ranma snorted. "Typical of an Intel type." He studiously ignored the looks he got from the two senior Intel officers.

"Mister Saotome."

"Let 'em stay." Ranma shrugged. "If there are any false defectors, well, we got 'em outnumbered pretty good."

"Then the board has reached a decision, and--"

"One moment, please." Colonel Maistrov stood up. "A decision of this magnitude cannot be left in the hands of junior officers. Even if one of them is the acting XO of the ship."

"Hardly 'acting,'" objected Misa.

"But an XO's slot calls for a Major, not a Commander. As you _are_ a Commander, you are therefore a junior officer. Captain, I call for a vote by rank lots."

Ranma scowled. With Maistrov and Alvaro technically equal to the Captain, such a vote would favour their position.

Nabiki cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Toyoshima, do you have document thirty-five alpha?"

"Yes, Boss." Toyoshima pulled her PDA from its pocket on her belt.

"Would you be so kind as to deliver its contents to the Captain?"

Toyoshima wordlessly handed the PDA to Global.

"Captain, this was brought to my attention by a member of Second Cavalry, who asked that his name not be given. According to him, and as I have verified through inspections of inventory, it seems that there has been quite a large amount of...creative bookkeepping...when it comes to inventory consumed during live-fire exercise."

"Much of this dates back to before the invasion," said Global. But his face was darkening.

"None the less, you'll note that several key items - especially rations, but a lot of luxury items as well, such as alcohol and tobacco - were also marked as 'destroyed in training accidents', or as 'lost during transit'. We cannot find correlations between these entries and, say, accident reports or transportation receipt. Therefore, the inventory in question has simply...gone missing."

"Ammunition, weapons, food supplies, medications..." Global carefully set down the PDA. "Miss Tendo...where exactly did you come by these files?"

Nabiki smiled sweetly. "Why, in Maistrov's personal computer."

Maistrov jumped to his feet. "You broke into my computer?"

"I told you when you hired me," said Nabiki. "We always look into our employer's background. Just in case we need the dirt."

The Captain glanced back at the Intelligence Chief. "Colonel Maistrov. Can you explain this?"

Maistrov was doing a good imitation of a landed fish.

"I assume that that is a no." Global thumbed the intercom. "Security, Briefing Room A."

* * *

"Well, that leaves Nabs firmly in charge of the entire Intelligence Department," said Ranma. "Dunno if that's such a good thing for me personally, but for _Macross_ in general, it can't help but work out in the long run."

Roli frowned. He was the smallest of the three Zentraedi, and his jowly face made the expression particularly unpleasant. "You speak of this 'Intelligence' department. What exactly is their function?"

Ranma frowned, glanced hesitantly over at Misa, and said, "Well, I can't really go into precise details where _our_ Intelligence department is involved, but generally speakin', an Intel department gathers information on the enemy forces, an' forwards that to the brass."

"'Brass?'"

Ranma rolled his eyes. "The officers in charge."

"Ah." Roli nodded. "Then as far as you have explained it, we--" He indicated his two taller companions. "--were the Intelligence Department for our forces."

"All three of you?"

"Yes," confirmed Warera. "We were operators of information-gathering equipment, and after we returned with footage of the 'Beauty Pageant', we were Micloned and sent to spy on the people of your ship."

"Were you the only spies sent over here?" asked Misa.

"I think you do not understand, Commander Hayase." Roli smiled proudly. "We were the only spies _at all_."

Ranma's eyes widened. "Of course--your people are a warrior society, and so, you would never have developed espionage."

"You understand correctly," said Konda. He was the tallest of the three, and very slender. "Commander Dolza believed that, since you did not know about the Micloning process, you would not have expected any of our people to be able to blend into your society."

Warera laughed. "And we nearly didn't manage to do that. Your society is a madhouse, and at least four times, we almost managed to blow our cover."

"But there were a few things we never did figure out," continued Konda. "If I may ask about them? I will understand if they are military secrets that you must not reveal."

Ranma shrugged. "Can't hurt. Worst that'll happen is that I can't answer."

Konda turned to Misa. "We have seen you on several occasions, delivering speeches through the...I think they call it an 'idiot box'."

"Some people call it that," chuckled Misa.

"And several times on posters. In every case, you wear the uniform that you wear now. But when we first saw you, in the 'Pageant', you were wearing a different garment."

Misa blushed.

"That garment had very little coverage," agreed Warera. "On one occasion, I accidentally met a woman wearing similar garments, but she was very angry with me for seeing them. But you showed no anger."

Her blush deepened. "Well...That's hard to explain."

"No, it ain't," said Ranma. "The garment she was wearin' was meant for swimmin'. But Misa don't normally wear a swimsuit that skimpy."

"But why did she not appear angry?" asked Roli. "That is the part that confuses me."

"The situation we were in didn't call for anger," said Ranma. "She had to appear cool, collected an' calm."

"Ah!" Roli nodded. "Proper military decorum."

"Close enough," muttered Misa. "And I'd just as soon you not mention that particular 'garment' again."

"I would like the chance to see you wearing the sort of garment you normally wear to swim," said Konda.

Misa's blush was now so strong that Ranma was amazed her hair hadn't caught fire. He intervened on her behalf.

"You're not gonna get to," he said. "There's no place to swim in _Macross_".

"Oh." Konda paused. "Then why was she wearing that garment?"

"You just said it yourself," said Ranma. "You wanted to see her wearin' it, or somethin' like it, right?"

"Ranma--"

"Yes," said Konda. "I found that it caused a pleasant emotional reaction."

"That's why she was wearin' it."

"Ranma, _please_ shut up."

Konda considered this, then nodded. "Psychological warfare."

"You see, Misa?" asked Ranma. "They still don't quite get it."

"They're closer than most people think," said Misa.

"But a word of warning, guys: There are times and places to discuss things like what a girl looks like in a swimsuit." Ranma raised a finger. "But there are also times and places where it ain't such a good idea. Until you know the difference, better not to mention it."

"I think that this might not have been the best time or place," said Roli. "Commander Hayase appears distressed by the conversation." He turned to her. "I would apologize, on behalf of myself and my companions, for any discomfort we may have caused."

Misa nodded, then grinned. "It's all right, boys. It's not really your fault. I'll take it out on Ranma later."

Ranma chuckled. "Now I _know_ I'm in trouble."

"I have another question," said Konda. "Before we were sent here, Commander Bodolze captured three Miclones. He, Exedol and Vwritlai interrogated them, and two of them demonstrated something called a 'kiss'."

"Oh, man." Ranma dropped his face into his hand.

"It is a militarily sensitive subject?" asked Roli.

"Not really." Ranma looked up. "I just don't like bein' reminded of it."

"But you were not there," objected Warera. "I remember the three that were present, and none of them looked like you."

Misa chuckled, and said, "Payback time." She picked a cup of water off the table and dumped it over Ranma's head.

Ranma glared at her. "Thanks. Thanks a bunch."

The three spies, oddly, did not so much as bat an eye at the transformation. Roli nodded. "So you were there, and Commander Dolza's statement that the escaped aliens were killed was false."

"Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," quipped Ranma.

"And you were in the 'Pageant' as well," said Konda. "In the blue and gold--" He visibly cut himself off. "You and Commander Hayase were called away from the contest, and you said that you had to go 'blow up the bad guys.'"

"Yeah," said Ranma. "Some alien--I mean, Zentraedi--recon pod got too close, and they sent me out to shoot it down, or at least chase it off. They'd already driven off a buddy of mine, and I managed to get aboard it, but then it self-destructed."

Roli, Warera and Konda laughed. "So it was you!" gasped Roli. "We barely got away with our lives. You must be the greatest pilot of the Miclone forces."

Ranma shrugged. "I ain't bad."

"Don't let Miss Modest here fool you," said Misa. "She's got more citations for courage under fire than any other pilot. She's only second for total number of kills, but since the number one space is held by a deceased pilot, she's going to be surpassing him soon."

"It is clear now why you are such a dangerous pilot," said Roli. "No doubt you fly in female form."

"Naw. Only did that once." Ranma waved a hand. "I'm about equal in either form."

"We do not segregate the genders," said Misa. "I'm certain you've noticed that. We don't have very many female Valkyrie pilots, but they fly alongside the men."

"But females are superior by design," objected Warera.

"True," said Misa with a grin. "But in our society, we don't advertise the fact. We don't like to crush the male's fragile little egos."

"Wait 'till the Womyn's Movement get their paws on these guys," muttered Ranma.

* * *

"Your opinion, Miss Tendo?"

The Captain was not adhering to rank titles; Nabiki wasn't certain if this was a good thing or not. "I think that he was in it up to his neck, but unfortunately, these files don't quite prove it."

"At least you're honest," noted Global.

"Can't afford not to be, in this job." Nabiki paused, then said, "The fact that materials were being diverted is without a doubt. That it included armaments as well as food makes this a gunrunning case. Now..." Nabiki tapped her PDA. "We know that Maistrov was supplying luxury items to the black marketeers. That we can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt. But I doubt that he was selling ammunition or weapons to civilians inside the ship. Further, there was a drop in the amount of ammo being 'consumed in training', despite an increase in the amount of training that we were doing. Therefore, _someone_ was selling ammunition, but it stopped after the Misfold."

"So it was happening on Earth, and that means that, most likely, whoever it was being sold to was Earthside. Most likely insurgents."

"Can't really prove that, either." Nabiki paused, then said, "Loss of material started well before Maistrov's arrival on the island, but it took an upswing once he hit town. And that was when ammo started going missing as well. Maistrov's files outline the material that was missing, but I think that these were insurance files."

"In case someone started nosing around," said Global.

"Exactly. He could appear to be on top of the situation."

"Which he still could have been."

"Except that we _know_ that he was selling the booze and tobacco."

"Mmf."

"But until we can figure out who he was selling guns to..."

"Actually," said Global, "we don't need to prove that. His black marketeering that we _can_ prove is enough to have him removed from his post." He looked up at her directly. "Which is what you intended to begin with, right?"

"No, Sir." Nabiki shook her head. "I just wanted a way to take him down if I needed it. And he happily obliged me."

"You mean you didn't want his position?"

"Are you kidding?" She laughed. "I'd probably botch it pretty badly. I can handle the administrative side of things, but I don't really think like a soldier."

"Better learn how," said Global. "You ousted him, you can take his place."

Nabiki paused, and set down her PDA. "Sir, that wasn't false modesty, or some kind of psychological warfare. I honestly think that I would not be the best choice for this position."

Global smiled tightly. "Which is why it's yours."

Nabiki sighed. "This is a mistake."

"For your sake," said Global, "I hope you're wrong...Major."


	23. Chapter TwentyTwo: Downtime

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Twenty-Two: Downtime**

**July 28th, 2010**

_Goals and Intentions Report_

_Prepared by Major Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_Zentraedi Culture (Addendum)_

_Since the defection of one hundred and fifteen Zentraedi troops, we have managed to gather more information on their culture. And the picture that has been painted is no more attractive that it was two weeks ago._

_True to our earlier assessment, the Zentraedi are a warrior race, bred and trained for nothing but battle. The sexes are segregated right from birth, probably earlier. Fertilization takes place_ in vitro_, and the embryo decanted after an uncertain gestation period. They are decanted at full-size, which appears to be normal size for their species. The genetic donors are chosen based on their combat record, and their lineage, or_ Clan_, is traced according to the same-sex warrior who donated the genetic material. Like the Japanese, they place their Clan name first, followed by their personal name, but there are apparent exceptions to this. The most notable is Gar Bodolze, who places his Clan name second to his personal name, probably due to his position of power as Commander-in-Chief._

_The drive to reproduce is still present in the Zentraedi. The selection to serve as a donor of genetic material is of high importance to them, and their culture, such as it is, drives them to excel in battle in order to attain the right to reproduce. Of the ninety-five defectors interviewed - some were unwilling to reveal themselves, though an exact count was made available - none had the same Clan name, which leads us to believe that there are a large number of Clan available. It is also possible for a Zentraedi to be adopted into an existing Clan, though this appears to be rare, and a right permitted only to their most talented officers._

_Upon decanting, the Zentraedi is introduced into a creche, where all upbringing is geared towards teamwork, obedience and violence. This period of maturing lasts about twelve years, after which the prospective warrior is put through recloning to accelerate physical maturity and to enhance their capabilities. After recloning, the Zentraedi is tested rigorously, and his position in the war machine determined. Personal choice plays a small role in placing the soldier, but it is secondary to the talents of the individual. Approximately twenty percent of Zentraedi fail to complete this secondary training. Failure results in the destruction of the Zentraedi, usually through a training accident, but if the individual is found wanting at the end of the training, he is usually killed, and the Clan from which he is descended may not be given the opportunity to reproduce again._

_The above does not hold quite the same for the officers. The Officer Clans are restricted: Only members of these Clans may become officers. No officers were among the defectors, and so details of their upbringing is scanty at best, but most of the Zentraedi interviewed agreed that the Officer Clans are considerably more powerful, more intelligent, and generally superior in most ways._

_Similarly, there were no females among the defectors, and it is unknown in what ways their culture differs from the males. Again, however, the defectors were unified in the agreement that all females are superior to males. The mettle of a female officer is not to be taken lightly._

_Interestingly, this facet of their culture has led most Zentraedi to idolize females, to the point that, even after being informed of the equal status of women in_ Macross_, most of the defectors will still defer to a female. However, they also seem to have some sort of drive to out-perform females, which could be due to inter-service rivalry. And female officers, of_ Macross_, have received additional respect from the defectors, bordering on hero worship._

* * *

"Please, Commander Hayase?" The man looked human, but the way that he was bowing and scraping to Misa clearly marked him as Zentraedi. "I'm told that to have you sign this for me would bring me luck."

Misa stared at the little man. The Zentraedi tended to be on the smaller side, once Micloned, and this one was smaller than most. "Who told you that?"

"The singing girl, Ling Minmay. She signed one for Karez, and told him it was for luck."

Misa sighed, and pulled out a pen. "All right, I'll sign it for you." She scrawled her name on the poster. "But why _this_?"

The man rolled the poster back up. "I keep it on the wall of my barracks, so it is the first thing that I see upon awakening. It gives me inspiration--"

"Oh, hell," grumbled Misa. "_This_ I need to hear."

"Could be worse," said Ranma. "At least it's the uniform poster, not the bikini poster."

Misa turned a baleful eye on her boyfriend. "Or one of you."

Ranma shuddered. "Okay, you win. It's creepy."

"No kidding." She turned back to the Zentraedi. "How are you handling the change in culture?"

The man beamed. "To create, rather than to destroy...it's not something that we do well, but we're learning how."

"Well, _this_ signature is not for luck," said Misa. "It's for peace."

"Hopefully, our brothers in arms will see this soon." He bowed and scraped his way out of the restaurant.

Ranma chuckled. "The Miss Macross Fan Club is really gearing up, now that the Zentraedi have officially signed on. Those guys are convinced you can walk on water."

"Tell me," muttered Misa. "Hopefully, this sort of thing won't happen too often."

"At least they aren't gangin' up on you to beat you up," said Ranma.

Misa looked puzzled. "Why would they do that?"

"It's what they used to do to Akane," said Ranma. "There was this bonehead named Kuno who tried to ask her out once. She told him no, but he was denser than Zortrium armour. Finally, she punctuated her refusal with her fists."

"I bet that got her point across," laughed Misa.

"Naw." Ranma shook his head. "Kuno ain't that bright. He decided that she would only date someone strong enough to beat her down, an' in a public speech, he made it clear that she would have to be defeated in combat before anyone asked her out."

"And people bought into that?" asked Misa, amazed.

"Well, he also said that he'd smack anyone who _didn't_ follow his little rule, and until I showed up, he was the best fighter at the school." He frowned. "I put an end to that little debacle, right quick. But then Kuno became fixated on _me_."

They turned in at the White Dragon, which was rather busy. Ranma's eye picked out four Skull pilots. Half his Squadron had been given a week's furlough. Overall, it seemed that lately, the Skull had been getting more furlough than they had mission time.

But that made sense. The Jolly Rogers had been the centerpiece of the human Order of Battle since the start of the war. They'd flown more, harder, more dangerous missions than any other Squadron, and suffered worse losses. Many of the pilots were starting to show signs of shell-shock.

Including himself, he admitted.

"Wanted to beat you up?"

"Eh?" Ranma dragged his train of thought back to the conversation. "Oh, in the worst way," he chuckled. "Worse, he became convinced that I'd bent Akane to my will using black magic. Worse still, he also became infatuated with my female side."

Misa laughed.

"Quit laughin'!" Ranma scowled. "Ya got no idea how badly that creeped me out! And he also decided that I was enslavin' my female half with the same black magic, and that if he could beat me, they'd both be free!"

Misa could no longer remain standing, and collapsed into her chair, holding her sides. Ranma fumed, and waited for her to stop laughing.

Finally, she subsided, and said, "Well, at least with him chasing your girl side, I guess he decided to leave Akane alone, so that at least worked to your benefit."

"No such luck," groused Ranma. "He kept on chasin' her as well. Decided that he was man enough for both of us." He looked as though he wanted to spit, or possibly vomit, but apparently decided against doing so on Saochin's immaculate floors. "An' the fuckwit also decided that I was afraid to face him in a real fight, but instead used black magic to keep him from winnin', as well."

"Saotome Ranma, the evil sorcerer," chuckled Misa. "Throws fireballs, moves faster than sound, changes gender...I'm glad you're on our side."

"You forgot creatin' tornadoes," said Ranma.

"Oh, you got blamed for that too?"

"Naw." He shook his head. "I guess you haven't seen that technique yet."

Misa paused. "You mean you _can_ create tornadoes?"

Ranma shrugged, and nodded. "Just small ones."

"Oh, my."

"Hey, Saotome."

Ranma turned, to see Max walking up to their table. "Yo, Max. What's up?"

"Well, you remember that you offered to help me out with that girl--"

"Yeah?"

"I need a bit more advice."

Ranma sighed. "Ya know, we got a staff shrink for that sorta thing, right?"

"I'd rather talk with a friend."

Ranma rolled his eyes. "Fine. What's up?"

"I guess I didn't make such a good impression, the first time around--"

"You mentioned that."

"And the second time I talked to her, it didn't go over so well, either. We were interrupted by an alert, I didn't even get her phone number."

"Maybe you should move on," said Ranma. "You're startin' to come off like a stalker."

Max recoiled at the suggestion. "That's not the sort of impression I want to give, Sir."

"Don't 'Sir' me, we're equal in rank."

"Sorry. But the point is, neither of us really got a chance to get to know the other, things weren't at their best...I..." He sighed. "Before I give up on her, I just want to learn a bit more about her. I mean, all I really know about her is that her mother lives in Yokohama, she's a martial artist, and that she's a really good kisser."

"Didn't know you'd gotten that far with her," said Ranma. But something was bothering him about the conversation. "I shoulda realized that she was a martial artist, though. She moves like one."

"She moves a lot like you."

"Naw...Well, to the untrained eye, maybe."

Max bristled. "I'm not exactly untrained."

"You're good, Max, I'll admit that, but you're nowhere near my level. No-one else on this boat is."

"_She_ is."

"Aah." He waved it off. "Maybe I'll get a chance to spar with her sometime. So things didn't go so well, you've not really had a chance to chat...and ya want my advice how to get her to open up?" He shook his head. "Bad choice. I suck with women."

"Not what I heard from Major Tendo," said Max.

"Nabs' stories are always exaggerated," said Ranma. "Okay, just ta get you off my back, I'll give you one bit of advice: Don't push it. Just let her know you're interested in gettin' to know her."

"Buy her a flower," suggested Misa.

Ranma wrinkled his nose. "A _flower?_ Damn, that's corny."

"Flowers are hard to come by on _Macross_," said Misa. "They're pure luxury items, and one that carry strong emotional import for females."

Ranma frowned, and said, "Ya know, she might have a point, Max. An' for damn sure, she knows more about chicks than me."

"That's 'women', dear," reproved Misa.

* * *

"Six of the Jolly Rogers' pilots are on the sick list," said Claudia, "including Lieutenant Saotome."

"Saotome?" Global frowned. "Since that young man is so healthy that horses are envious, I assume that he is suffering from operational exhaustion?"

"Yes," said Claudia. "The Ship's Doctor took him off the flight roster, gave him two weeks of enforced downtime. It's not really enough to do more than take the edge off, but it's probably all he needs."

"The last thing we need is for someone with Saotome's personal level of power with a case of the Thousand Yard Stare." Global sighed. "Plus, he's our most effective pilot, by more than a small margin. After those two weeks, I want the Rogers left off the rotation unless something _really_ bad happens. I'm not happy with the idea, but we need to keep the Valkyrie pilots at top possible shape." He paused. "Which Squadron is in the best shape?"

"Probably VFA-121, the Gladiators." Claudia checked her lists. "They're the newest Squadron, mostly old hands, but since they've been busy with workups, they've sat out the last scramble, and the enemy hasn't tried anything in almost three weeks."

"Thank Heaven for small miracles," muttered Global.

"And the Renegades, call sign Blue, have had some reasonable downtime as well. VFA-115. Their ships were all Block Ones, and Maintenance finally got around to scheduling them for the Block Two upgrades. The last of their birds was finally put back together four days ago, and they're just finishing their own workup."

"So Blue and--What was the Gladiators' call sign?"

"They don't have one yet." Claudia frowned, and jotted a note on her PDA. "We'll call them Apollo for now, until Misa assigns them a proper call sign."

"Speaking of whom." Global sat up a bit more in his chair. "Has she been to see Doc Wood yet?"

"No, Sir."

"Schedule her in. Quietly." Global pulled his pipe from his pocket, stuck it between his teeth. "She's starting to look a bit ragged as well."

Claudia chuckled. "Could that be because she's doing three separate jobs on this ship?"

"Could be," allowed Global. "I've been liberal with allowing her downtime, because she's vital to this ship. I need her in top form. But I want that in writing from Doc Wood as well."

"So noted, Sir."

"And schedule yourself in, as well."

Claudia paused, and looked up. "Sir? I've requested no leave."

"Exactly," said Global. "You've been burning the candle at both ends, and in the middle as well. And you've had a deep personal loss recently. Plus, your job description is almost as hectic as Commander Hayase. And you're just as vital." He pointed a finger at her. "See the Doc as soon as is feasable. That's an order. If I don't have his report on your fitness within a week, I will drag you down there myself by your hair."

"Can't have that," chuckled Claudia. "All right, I'll schedule myself in for tomorrow. Will that be soon enough, or should I invest in some Tylenol?"

* * *

Ranma looked down at herself in disgust. It had taken Minmay a while, but she'd finally gotten her again.

Misa giggled. "Wet silk sticks to skin."

"Yeah," Ranma noted sourly. "I recall hearin' that from someone, a long time ago."

"Sorry, Ranma," said Minmay. "I didn't really think that through." She started collecting the dishes from their table, and said, "I'll bring you some hot water."

"Naw, don't bother." Ranma glanced over at Misa. "Well, it's been a while since we've had a girls' night out. Might as well stay like this for a while." Then she grinned wickedly. "I got a good idea. Misa, did you know that there's a video arcade now?"

"Yes, I'd heard. How did they shake enough computing hardware free to manage that?"

"No idea. But I do know that the owner hired a real computer whiz to set up the programs, so I'd not be surprised to learn that the hardware is all obsolete...but programmed really tight." She stood up. "Why not check it out?"

"Video games are not precisely my idea of fun," said Misa.

"Not really mine, either. But I wanna check it out for four reasons." She raised a finger. "First off, that computer whiz, if he's as good as they say, should be in uniform, workin' for us."

"Good point," conceded Misa.

Ranma added a second finger. "The video games are mostly flight simulators, an' Hikaru told me that many of them are really close to real Valkyrie flight models. Which makes me wonder about security leaks."

"Oh, a very good point." Misa's expression darkened. "In fact, that would really worry me if the Zentraedi start going there. Even if they're defectors, we can't be certain that some of them aren't spies."

"Third: The Zentraedi seem to like the place."

"Okay, you've convinced me," said Misa. She stood up, dropping a banknote on a dry spot of the table. Then paused. "What's the fourth reason?"

Ranma turned. "Yo, Minmay. Think your uncle can shake you loose for an hour or two?"

Minmay blinked. "I'll ask him."

"Wear somethin' halfway nice." Ranma turned back to Misa. "Fourth: Havin' Miss Macross, plus two other finalists, droppin' in on this place won't hurt his profit margin. An' I still wanna see recreation facilities improvin' on this boat."

Misa still hated the title, hated the fact that it had catapulted her straight into the public eye of the civilian population. But even she had to chuckle at the stir they were about to cause.

"In that case, we should stop by my quarters. I want to get changed into civvies."

* * *

_The owner of the video game arcade must think Christmas has come early_, mused Ranma. Between Ranma and Minmay calling out to people they knew by name, and Misa walking between them like a Queen being escorted by her ladies in waiting - only Ranma knew that she was more than a bit mortified by the attention - they'd gathered a bit of a crowd with them. All of whom walked into the arcade.

The place was still quite new, and as such, hadn't gathered as much attention as the owner would have liked. But between the small number of customers already present, and the crowd that followed the Miss Macross Squad, the place was now packed.

_Mission Goal Four attained,_ thought Ranma. _Now for the other three._

There were twenty machines in the place, and Ranma noted that all of them were casino-style machines. It was possible to win back your money, and then some, if you were good enough. She found a likely-looking console, and indicated it. "Minmay, let's give this one a try."

"Okay." Minmay reached for her change purse, but Ranma waved a hand.

"I got it. This little excursion is work for me, remember?" She snickered. "I'll just get Nabs to pay me back."

She dropped the required coins into the machine, noted that this increased the play time, and added a few more, until Minmay's time indicator read five minutes.

"Now, this is a stunt flyin' game, accordin' to this, but we're gonna use it for flight instruction."

"Really?" Minmay's eyes shone.

"Hey, I promised I'd get you some trainin' to fly, didn't I?" Ranma grinned. "Saotome Ranma keeps his promises."

"Her promises, you mean."

"I'm a guy," laughed Ranma.

"Don't say that too loud, or you'll break hearts all through here." Minmay looked down at the simplified controls. "Okay, what do these do?"

"The stick works the same as it did in your little fan jet. That lever's the throttle. Remember, when flyin', speed is life. The foot pedals control your rudder." She held out a hand, thumb and pinky extended. "The stick controls pitch and roll." She demonstrated with her hand. "The rudders control yaw. You wanna match your yaw with your roll when turnin' the plane. Ready to give it a go?"

"I guess."

"Remember, if ya screw the pooch in this game, we just gotta hit the restart button. Electrons are cheap, so don't worry too much about augerin' in." She tapped the start button, and Minmay grabbed the controls.

Ranma kept one eye on her hand movements, the other on the simulated airplane. "Flight model looks reasonable on this," she noted. "We might even be able to use this program in the Spacy for basic flight instruction."

"Really?"

Ranma turned at the unexpected voice, to see a tall, lanky brown-haired man standing nearby.

"Oh, yeah. Not for advanced pilot trainin', of course, but for the simple stuff."

The man grinned. "I guess I got the parameters correct, then. I based the flight model off the P-51 Mustang, of World War Two."

"Good choice for a stunt game," said Ranma. "Did ya write all these programs from scratch?"

"Mostly," said the man. "I had to, really, since our computer hardware was so limited. I only used a simple shader system for the models. All in software. The hardware we got our hands on didn't include any graphics acceleration."

"What's the hardware based on?"

The man chuckled. "When they did the Block Two refit on some of the military aircraft, they were just going to junk the old hardware. I managed to get my hands on it, through back channels. The Freescale Coldfire is no cold-steel exotic metal, but it's more than sufficient for video games."

"Good thing it's all surplus hardware," mused Ranma. "Or I'd have to get the MPs in here. Why'd ya make them casino type games?" She cringed as Minmay's simulated airplane smacked into the ground.

"Our backer insisted on it," said the man. "She gave us the likely win/lose variables, and sure enough, it's making us a small but consistent profit. And our regulars don't mind that they always leave somewhat behind in cash."

"Okay, that tells me precisely who your backer is," said Ranma. "Minmay, remember that if ya climb too sharp, your wings stop workin', and your plane falls outta the sky."

"Okay, Ranma."

"So tell me, kid." He wasn't exactly a kid, but he was definitely young. "You considered writin' software for the U. N. Spacy?"

"Yes, in fact," chuckled the man. "Commander Tendo wanted this software developed for modeling evasion paths and countermeasures. She set us up with the arcade so the boss and I would help with the modeling. And, of course, Tendo gets a cut of the profits."

"Of course," smirked Ranma. "But Nabs don't think like a martial artist. We can use this software for all sorts of trainin' purposes."

The man nodded. "I sort of expected that." He reached into a pocket, extracted a card. "Gimme a call, and we can discuss it in a more business-like setting."

Ranma took the card. "Thanks. We'll also need to call Nabs in for such a discussion." She winced again, as Minmay managed to bury the fighter a second time.

* * *

Misa was starting to get a better appreciation of what the fighter pilots went through.

The game was called _Valkyrie!_, and she wasn't certain how accurate the flight model was. But she was certain that the odds facing the lone pilot of the Valkyrie were actually understated. She yanked the control stem backwards, trying to avoid the gunfire of a simulated Battle Pod, and watched as her computerized fighter exploded. She cursed, and fed another coin into the machine.

"Hey, Commander."

She glanced up, to see Max standing over her shoulder. "Hello again, Lieutenant."

"Trying out our side of the show, are you?"

"Yes, and I think it's best I'm doing it in simulation," she laughed. "Cheaper that way."

There were only about ten Battle Pods in the first wave, and her Valkyrie was equipped only with the guns - missiles had to be earned, according to the instructions taped to the side of the machine. Typical missions for the Valkyrie pilots frequently had them outnumbered twenty to one, though missiles made for a big equalizer at the start of a mission.

"This simulator handles GERWALK and Jet mode accurately enough," said Max. "But it overstates some capabilities of Soldier Mode, while lacking some of its other advantages."

"Good to know," said Misa. She winced as yet another simulated Valkyrie was wiped from the sky. "How do you guys survive?"

"Practise, Ma'am." chuckled Max. "Also, we operate in groups of three, which makes the fight a lot safer. This game supports multiplayer; you want a wingman?"

"Sure."

Max sat down opposite her, and dropped a few coins in. "Normally, I leave this place with more money than I brought in. But I'm just gonna give you some backup."

Ranma walked over, and glanced down at the screen. "Oh, this is interestin'." She chuckled. "Pity it's only got two control sets. Can I play Gunsight One?"

Misa laughed. "Why not?"

"Okay, you got a group approachin' from three one five. Increase velocity to seven hundred knots."

Misa advanced her throttles, aiming the Valkyrie towards the oncoming Pods.

"Don't aim straight at 'em! They can throw a lot more fire at ya in a head-on pass!"

"Sorry!" She pulled up slightly, Max dropping in behind her. The targeting reticle popped down to cover her selected target, and she fired, blowing up a Pod.

"Nice way of simulatin' the monocle," judged Ranma. "Six bandits turnin' to engage from behind."

"I got 'em," said Max. He dropped to GERWALK, stomped left rudder, and whirled his bird on the spot to engage the Battle Pods.

"Very precise," judged Misa. Then scowled as half her shots went astray. "Better than me. Does he fight this well in battle?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Ranma watched Max's fighter jink around on the screen. "This simulation doesn't quite match the real Valk, but it looks like Max is compensatin' for the differences."

"How would you know?" muttered Max.

"I do this for a livin', remember?"

"Right."

There was something in his tone that Ranma didn't really like, but she chose to ignore it for the moment. "Misa, you're flyin' erratically."

"This isn't as easy as it looks," she said.

"I know, but if ya don't straighten up and fly right--" She winced as Misa's jet was blown apart. "Somethin' bad's gonna happen."

Misa cursed and dropped another coin into the machine.

"Ya respawned too far from the fight. Get in there, buster!"

"Yes, Ma'am." Misa grinned as Ranma bristled. She rammed the throttle all the way open.

"Why aren't ya usin' yer overthruster? Red button on the throttle."

"Oh." Misa thumbed the button, watched the jet accelerate.

"Jenius, ya got an incomin' friendly, at nine hundred knots. Four Pods are closin' off her entry route. Can ya plow the road?"

"Aye aye." Max knocked down three of the Pods, and Misa managed to peg the fourth. Then Max dropped back in on her wing.

"Okay, Zentraedi Destroyer at two seventy five." Ranma squinted to read the instructions on the screen. "Iron Hand mission. Remove the enemy gun turrets."

"I can read, Ranma," said Misa.

"Yeah, but if ya don't have time to read, 'cause, ya know, you're in a dogfight--"

"Okay," muttered Misa. "Max, I'm going after the first target."

"I got your back."

"Sixteen Pods ahead, but they're mostly occluded by targets." Ranma glanced at Misa's instruments. "And you're comin' in too hot."

"_Damn it--_" Misa's Valkyrie plowed into the surface of the Destroyer. She stood and turned to Ranma. "This would be a lot easier if you weren't backseat driving!"

Ranma said nothing, just smirked at her.

"Actually, Ma'am," said Max hesitantly, "What she's doing is largely what you do, and the operators in the Cat's Eyes."

Misa sat back down slowly. "Really?"

"Yeah, and once you get used to it, it really does help." Ranma indicated the radar scope on the screen. "See, ya got your instruments to keep track of, plus your radar, your stores an' reaction mass, your weapons, your current flight path, your mission orders, and ya also gotta spare time to try an' eyeball the bad guys. Havin' a couple of people workin' your backstop can help stave off helmet fire."

"But to a raw nugget," added Max, "It does come off as more than a bit overbearing."

"Every pilot thinks he's the one in absolute control of his airplane," said Ranma. "Every pilot thinks he's the only one who matters. An' they should know better, but it's how they _have_ to think. Even in a battle, the performance of the Valkyrie is vastly improved by havin' someone else helpin' ya out. Even if they're sittin' safe an comfortable on the bridge of the _Macross_."

_That was just how Ichigyo put it,_ mused Misa. "So, was this just some sort of object lesson for me, then?"

"Yep," said Ranma. "Ya need to know how we fighter jocks think. Not because you're doin' your job wrong, but because you're doin' it _right._" She paused. "No matter how ungrateful we fighter jocks seem."

"Okay, I see your point." Misa pulled another coin from her purse. "Let's try this again."

"Actually, I want to get back to Minmay, see how many more planes she's wrecked."

"Okay."

"Before you go..." Max stood up. "I wanted a quick chance to talk to you."

"Okay."

"I know we got off on the wrong foot, and I'm sorry about that."

Misa looked up, startled.

Ranma stared at Max incredulously. "Max--"

"Wait, hear me out. I just want to get the chance to know you a bit better."

Ranma sighed. "Look, Max..." She glanced down at Misa, then said, "I'm seein' someone else. 'Fraid I can't be spendin' a lot of time with you."

"Oh." Max looked downcast. "Well, he's a lucky guy."

"Actually," said Misa, "she's a lucky woman."

Max blinked. "Oh."

"If he buys me a flower," growled Ranma, "I'm gonna be very angry."

* * *

Tendo Nabiki looked down from the controller's balcony, and smiled.

_Looks like this place has finally been discovered._ She noted the presence of Ranma, Misa and Minmay, and glanced over to the manager.

"How are we doing today?"

"Well, that little blue-haired guy is cleaning up as usual," said Miyamoto. "And Saotome's played one game, and owned it pretty badly, but mostly has been watching the others play. I tell ya, havin' Miss Macross and two other finalists here has brought in a crowd."

"I bet." Nabiki chuckled.

"So far, we're up almost ten thousand, though." He pointed. "Looks like the girls are all done here."

"As long as the crowd they brought in stays," said Nabiki. "I think we might need to increase the difficulty on the _Valkyrie!_ machine, though."

"If Saotome becomes a regular, we sure as hell will need to. Bad enough that Max is bleedin' it white. Not to mention that green-haired girl."

"Hm?"

"Good lookin' girl, and a mean pilot. She really racks up the kills on _Valkyrie!_ Doesn't even touch the other machines. She _must_ be a military pilot, but she's never come in in uniform."

Nabiki frowned. "When does she normally come in?"

"Never before sixteen thirty, never after eighteen hundred. She normally plays for about two hours, then leaves with a lot more money than she spent." Miyamoto paused. "I've gotten the sneaking suspicion that she's supporting herself by playing here."

"How much of a threat to the profit margin is she?"

Miyamoto tapped his computer controls. "She's not hurting us too badly. She always seems to leave just after racking up two hundred credits. That's after her initial stake, by the way."

"That certainly sounds like someone who's gambling to feed herself," mused Nabiki. "I think I'll hang around until she comes in."


	24. Chapter TwentyThree: Checkmate

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Twenty-Three: Checkmate**

**July 28th, 2010**

"Excuse me."

The green-haired girl looked up at Nabiki, a somewhat befuddled expression on her face. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if perhaps we could have a game." Nabiki jingled a handful of coins. "You seem to be pretty good, and I thought I could learn a lot from playing against you."

"Are you going to wager that?" The girl nodded towards Nabiki's coins.

"All right, certainly." Nabiki grinned. "Let's make it interesting. I've got thirty credits here, in addition to the amount I need for a game." She stacked the coins on the console, and the girl set an equal amount next to them. "By the way, my name is Nabiki."

"So?"

Nabiki blinked. "Well, if you're going one-on-one with an opponent, don't you think that you should know their name?"

"I suppose there is a certain logic to that," allowed the girl. "I am called Milia."

"Pleased to meet you, Milia."

Nabiki sat down opposite the girl, and checked out the controls. They'd been salvaged from a Block One Valkyrie, and as a result, reconfiguration was handled with the throttle lever instead of separate controls. That worked better for the game than separate levers would have. She resisted the urge to glance up at the control pit, and simply trusted Miyamoto to work his magic.

_With the cheats engaged, I'll have fifty percent better armour, and my weapons will track more accurately._

And it quickly became apparent that she needed that advantage. Milia's handling of the GERWALK was uncertain, but she seemed to have an inherent knowledge of the uses and tactics of vectored thrust aircraft. In head-to-head mode, the game locked reconfiguration to one mode, and Nabiki had chosen GERWALK as it was the easiest to handle, and maximized her advantages.

But even so, it was obvious that the other girl was simply better than her. It took her quite a few minutes to score enough hits to win the battle, and Milia scored more overall on her; only the cheats gave Nabiki the win.

Milia looked up at her, and Nabiki saw that she wasn't fooled. But the younger woman just smiled, and said, "Perhaps you'd like to try again? Double or nothing?"

_Try again? That's normally what the winner would say._ Nabiki shrugged, and said, "Why not?"

The console flared, its holographic generators activating, and two miniature Battroids rose above it.

Nabiki jammed her throttle forward, and her blue Battroid dove towards the red opponent, spraying gunfire, but whatever disadvantages that Milia had in GERWALK did not apply to Battroid. She flipped her robot over the incoming stream of fire, and directed a single, short burst of fire. It struck Nabiki's ship dead center, reducing her health bar. Nabiki adjusted her flight path, aiming towards her again, and the red Battroid started flying backwards, slipping side to side to avoid Nabiki's attacks and returning pin-point fire in short, controlled bursts.

_Where have I seen this style of combat before?_

Nabiki tried a complex feint, one she'd heard called the Focker Feint. She doubted she'd have the skill to pull it off, but...she rammed the throttle forward, then tilted the stick, stomped left rudder and pulled the throttle back. In the holographic display, the blue Battroid roared towards the red one, then slipped underneath it, popping up behind it.

The red Battroid countered with a one-eighty turn, tumbling end for end and firing into her while inverted, then righted itself, still flying backwards, and hammered her again.

_Now I_ know _I've seen this style before. Let's just test my theory..._

She broke off the engagement, scrabbling for separation, but Milia dived after her, hammering her virtual Valkyrie again and again with gunfire, until the computerized model fragmented into pieces. Then the blue Valkyrie paused, hovering in mid-air...as though ensuring the kill.

Nabiki looked up at her opponent, shocked at the cold expression the other woman wore. She nodded, set another stack of coins on the console. "Good game."

"You fought well for one who does not normally fly." Milia smiled tightly. "Even though you were cheating."

"My arcade, my rules." Nabiki smiled back.

"Indeed?" Milia collected her money, and rose. "Then I assume you have come to remove me from this place?"

"Oh, not at all," said Nabiki. "You've become a popular figure here. People come in just to watch you play. So overall, you make us more money than you take away." She paused. "I was just wondering, though, if you'd care to learn a different game."

"So you are at least trying to chase me off today."

"You've made the two hundred, and then some, that you normally would make before leaving," said Nabiki. "The sixty creds I just lost to you puts you a few over. So since you've made your cash for the day, why not join me in a game just for fun?"

Milia considered, then said, "Why not?"

* * *

"Do you ever get enough to eat?" laughed Misa.

"Not really," admitted Ranma. "An' let's face it, there's no better place to eat in town than the White Dragon."

Misa glanced around the badly damaged city. "They still haven't finished repairing the damage from the raid."

"I know," said Ranma. "The aliens managed to inflict an awful lot of damage."

Misa pointed out a construction crew. "Notice something, though?"

"Eh?" Ranma glanced over. "Well, at least one of that gang is Zentraedi. Or else he thinks purple hair is okay."

"Actually, I think I see two others, besides him," said Misa. "They're really doing their part to rebuild."

"Seems like," said Ranma. She changed course, walked up to the work gang. "Yo. Keepin' busy?"

One of the Zentraedi turned towards her with a big grin. "This is a lot more rewarding than blowing things up!"

Another nodded. "Takes longer, though. Maybe that's why."

Ranma nodded. "Anybody can wreck something in a matter of seconds. Creating something takes longer, requires skills, and you can feel better about it."

"But you are also a soldier," said the first one. "Don't you feel..." He trailed off, apparently at a loss for words.

"I'm a soldier, yeah," said Ranma. "But my job is to stop people from blowin' stuff up."

"I am also a soldier," said Misa. "But the rebuilding of the city falls under my scope of command."

"An' on Earth, there's whole groups of soldiers, called Combat Engineers, whose job often involves buildin' stuff. And other groups, called Guardsmen, who also build stuff. So even for a soldier, we get the chance to build or repair."

"You forgot Technicians."

"Naw, I didn't," she said. "But the Zentraedi have Technicians."

The Zentraedi looked awed, possibly a bit overwhelmed. "Can...can I join one of these groups?"

"Unfortunately," said Misa, "not until the war is over. It wouldn't be fair to put you in a position where you might have to fight your friends."

"Yo, Misa," broke in Ranma. She pointed across the road. "Saochin and Feichung."

"Hm?" Misa glanced towards the couple. "Oh. What are they up to?"

Misa and Ranma headed towards the older Chinese couple. Ranma waved as they approached.

"Yo. What's up?"

"Minmay just told us that Kyle was in hospital," said Feichung. "He was helping with the construction crews, and had an accident."

"Shit," said Ranma. "Sorry to hear that. Is he okay?"

"Not precisely," said Saochin. "He's got some broken ribs. Some more, that is." The glance he gave Ranma was mock-accusatory. "Damn fool was ordered to take it easy, but he was determined to do his share. And he lost his grip on an I-beam, and it landed on his chest."

Misa poked Ranma in the side. "See what you did?"

"Hey!" Ranma protested. "He started it!"

"I know," said Saochin. "Boy's temper was never very good. But now he'll _have_ to rest. They're refusing to release him until his ribs mend."

"So you've shut down the restaurant?"

"Don't sound so glum, Ranma!" laughed Misa.

"Minmay can't run it by herself," said Feichung.

Ranma frowned, then said, "You got an apron in my size?"

* * *

"Five years of Academy training, first in my class, and here I am, waiting tables."

"Quiet, you," laughed Ranma. She set two plates on the kitchen window. "Helpin' out friends in need is nothin' to complain about."

"Why can't I cook?"

"Because I'm better at it."

Misa stuck her tongue out at her, and picked up the two plates.

The lunch rush was almost over. That Ranma was a good short-order cook was no surprise; she liked to eat too much not to know how to cook. The word had quickly gotten around that Miss Macross was serving tables at the White Dragon, and customers had poured in. At least a quarter of them tried to get seats that allowed them to watch Ranma in the kitchen, however, as Ranma approached cooking the same way she did anything else: At top speed, with infinite precision, and a lot of flair.

"Just be glad that we ain't doin' this the way they did at the Nekohanten," said Ranma.

"Where?"

"The last restaurant I worked at," she said. "The cook would just throw the dishes, and ya had to be quick to catch them. Once you could do that, she started throwin' more than one. At my peak, I was catchin' up to ten, without spillin' a drop."

"Oh, dear." Misa shook her head. "Your training has helped, but not _that_ much."

"Last one," said Minmay. "We can close up after this."

"Good," said Ranma. "We're nearly out of dishes." She glanced at the dishwashing area. "We really needed one more person."

"Well, I can do that now." Minmay started to pull off her cheongsam, causing Ranma to panic momentarily until she realized that the younger girl was wearing shorts and a T-shirt underneath. She calmed her breathing, and started the scrub-down on the grill.

"Any idea how long your aunt and uncle will be gone?" Misa was leaning against the kitchen window, a cup of coffee in her hands.

"We got somewhere to be?" asked Ranma. "You ain't due on duty until tomorrow, and I still got three days of this enforced leave crap."

"No, not really. It's just that..." Misa paused, and sipped her coffee. "Well, we've got this place gleaming, there's no customers, nothing really to do. But until Saochin and Feichung return, we're pretty much stuck here."

"Hey," said Minmay. "I'm here."

"You can't run the store by yourself," said Ranma. "And someone else might happen in. And it wouldn't be fair to your aunt and uncle if we locked up after tellin' 'em we'd keep it open."

"And I can only wipe the tables so many times before the finish comes off," said Misa.

Ranma considered, then said, "All right. There's no motor traffic in this area yet. Let's head out into the street, and we'll spar."

Misa stared at him. "_Spar?_" She indicated her knee-length skirt and knit top. "Dressed like this?"

"What's the second rule of self-defense?"

"'The attacker will not allow you to choose the time or place of the attack.'" They were Ranma's rules, and she'd developed them after years of fending off unprovoked, unwarranted assaults.

"So you think an attacker will give you time to change clothing?" Ranma waggled a finger at her. "And you're a Tactical Officer."

Minmay giggled. Misa flashed the smaller girl a dirty look before turning back to Ranma. "All right, fair point. But do me a favour?"

Ranma tilted her head and grinned.

"Don't force me to use any high kicks, okay? This is a full skirt."

* * *

"Red?"

"I am going to _kill_ you." Misa discovered that one could say the entire phrase while one's teeth were gritted. She threw a rapid three-punch combo, and Ranma parried them effortlessly, then rapped her side with her knuckles.

"Ya got it wrong. It's supposed to go, 'Saotome Ranma, prepare to die!'" Ranma chuckled, then dodged a side kick. "Why red? What would the bridge crew think?"

"If anything, they'd think that--" She threw another punch. "That my choice of undergarments when off-duty was irrelevant." Misa grinned evilly. "Or that I was wearing them for someone else's benefit."

As always, a statement of this sort caused Ranma to stop in surprise. Only an instant, but after a half year of training under the harshest taskmaster on the ship, Misa was ready for that instant. She swept Ranma's legs out from under her, knocking her to the ground.

Misa stood up, and chuckled. "We have _got_ to work on that prudish streak of yours."

Ranma rolled to her feet. "All right, let's take five."

Minmay was watching wide-eyed from the sidelines. "She taught you all that in only six months?"

"No," said Misa. "I had already had some training from Basic. Ranma just built on the foundation."

"Remind me to meet with your previous _sensei_," said Ranma. "I wanna shake his hand. He gave you one hell of a foundation in only one week."

"Can you teach _me_, Ranma?"

Ranma considered the request, then shook his head. "There's at least three good reasons why not."

"Oh." Minmay looked down. "Will you at least tell me why not?"

"Well, to begin with, martial arts requires a lot of dedication," said Ranma. "Between your job here at the Dragon, plus your schoolwork, plus your part-time career as a singer, plus the time you're puttin' in at ground school...you don't have a lot of time left to yourself."

"I guess..."

"Already, you're stretched to the breakin' point," said Ranma. "Remember how, six weeks ago, you passed out from exhaustion?" She leveled a finger at the singer. "They don't hospitalize people for kicks, ya know."

"Okay," said Minmay. "You've made your point. I'm fragile."

"Compared to me, or even Misa, maybe."

"What's the other reason?"

"Same as the reason I can't train you for flyin'," said Ranma. "Misa got my ticket punched as a military instructor. The only way I can teach you hand to hand is if you sign up."

"Which you can't do until you're eighteen," added Misa. "Plus, I'm not certain that you'd make it as a soldier. No offense," she said, raising a hand. "It takes a different mindset."

"None taken," said Minmay with a smile. "I'm not really sure I could put up with some of the things you guys do."

"But the lack of time is the biggest reason," said Ranma. "You know how much time I spend practicin'?"

"Uh...no idea."

"I put in six hours each and every day," said Ranma. "Misa's not going for world-class, so she devotes only one hour per day."

Minmay's eyes widened. "I thought that a couple of hours per week--"

"For self-defense purposes, that's more than enough," said Ranma. "An' anyone can train you to that level, though I seriously doubt there's even that much time in your schedule."

Minmay's eyes fell. "Probably not."

"You're stretchin' in too many directions at once," Ranma said. "You might have to give up somethin'. I just hope it ain't your singin'."

"He's got all your albums," said Misa.

"Really?"

"Well..." Ranma looked abashed. "All my music was dirtside, ya know? I wanted some tunes, and only yours were available. But they're good. You've got some talent, kid."

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement," said Misa drily.

* * *

"But why do all these pieces have different movement rules?"

Nabiki grinned. "Chess is stylized warfare, remember. A Valkyrie has a different rate and mode of movement from a Tomahawk, and both differ from, say...a _Queaddlun-Rau_."

Milia looked up, startled, and Nabiki forced herself not to react.

"All right, I can understand that." She indicated the board. "So why does White always move first?"

"Someone has to."

"Very well. And the reason you chose to play White was...?"

"Moving first is a disadvantage," said Nabiki. "Despite the fact that it forces Black to react, rather than act, the choice of White's tactics sets the flavour for the entire match. An experienced player can take advantage of that, read the entire course of the game from White's initial move."

"I am not an experienced player."

"Really?" Nabiki advanced her King's Pawn, a standard opening gambit. "I hadn't noticed."

"That is sarcasm." Milia deployed one of her Knights. "I am unaccustomed to such."

Nabiki brought out her Bishop to counter Milia's Knight, and Milia immediately deployed her second Knight. Nabiki developed her Queen, and Milia brought the first Knight around in a fork.

"Nice work." Nabiki considered the board, then shifted her Queen out of the line of attack. Milia immediately took the Bishop.

"First blood."

Nabiki took the Knight, and Milia took Nabiki's advanced Pawn with her other Knight. Nabiki advanced a Pawn to threaten her Knight, and Milia did the same, to threaten the White Queen.

"Aggressive, aren't you?" Nabiki grinned.

"Of course."

Nabiki bent her attention to the game. Milia's play remained aggressive, developing her pieces quickly. Nabiki took advantage of this, launching a series of attacks on her Queen, forcing her back on the defensive.

The midgame was a bloodbath, pieces captured on both sides in a rapid series of attacks and counterattacks. Somehow, both Queens made it out of the midgame, but Nabiki quickly found hers hemmed in by Milia's surviving pieces.

"I have a minor advantage in terms of material," said Milia. "And both Kings are locked behind their defenses." She slid her Queen diagonally, taking a Pawn. "If this game is to advance, I shall have to erode your defenses."

Nabiki scowled. She could take Milia's Queen with her own, but a Rook was guarding it; she'd be trading Queen for Queen. She slid the Queen diagonally. "Queen takes Queen."

"Rook takes Queen." Milia smiled. "You are running out of options."

It was true, and Nabiki knew it. She ground her teeth, staring at the board. Her only remaining pieces were a Bishop and a Knight, in a defensive position. They commanded little of the board. She had two Pawns left as well. Milia still had her Rook and a Knight, plus a stronger Pawn defense.

"You are also running out of time." Milia indicated the clocks.

"Hush."

"I might just win by default."

Nabiki ground her teeth, and moved her King to attack the Rook. Milia slid the Rook out of harm's way.

"Purely defensive move, Milia." Nabiki smiled, and brought her pieces back into play. "Bad move."

The next ten moves were almost comical, Nabiki's remaining pieces, including the King, chasing the Rook across the board. It cost her her Knight and two remaining Pawns, but she killed the Rook.

Milia looked up and smiled. "Ever heard of target fixation?"

Nabiki paused, and looked at the board. "Oh, hell."

Her remaining Bishop was badly out of position, and Milia's Pawns advanced like an invading army. The Black Knight kept her Bishop harried and out of the fight, and Nabiki found her King pushed back by the interlocking wall of Pawns. Until first one Pawn, then a second, reached the back row, and became Queens.

Nabiki looked down at the board. "Pretty much scripted from here. Queen takes Bishop, check. I would have one move from there, and then your second Queen takes the game."

Milia nodded. "You did well, for one who is not a warrior."

"And you did exceptionally well for someone who only just learned the game," said Nabiki. "I don't suppose the Zentraedi play chess, do they?"

The colour drained from Milia's face. "You--"

"You play like a machine. One who has studied tactics all of her life, right from the moment she was decanted." Nabiki indicated the board. "You use horde tactics, just as your people use up the lower-caste warriors. You're a Zentraedi."

Milia jumped her feet, drawing a dagger from her sleeve. "I--"

"Oh, sit down. I'm not going to rat you out." Nabiki waved a hand. "To begin with, your people have been given asylum."

"You are more than you appear," said Milia. "What are you?"

"Major Tendo, Chief of Intelligence," said Nabiki.

"You are a spy."

"Not exactly," said Nabiki. "I'm an analyst. I figure things out. Now will you _please_ sit down and put away the knife?"

Milia sat down again slowly, but kept the knife in her hand. "So this game was some sort of elaborate trap to determine if I was one of your enemies?"

"No." Nabiki shook her head. "I figured that out while we were playing the video game. _This_ was to tell me what sort of enemy you were. You're a warrior, and a high-ranking one, not a spy. You think like a Squadron Leader." Nabiki leaned forward a bit. "I think that you were the one who shot down Major Focker."

"I have shot down many of your pilots," admitted Milia. "I knew none of them by name."

"Well, just the same, I think that it would be better if no-one knew your history," said Nabiki. "But I might just have a use for you. Consider it payment for my silence."

"Your silence could be more easily bought," said Milia. She raised the knife.

"You really want to reconsider that," said Nabiki. "After all, at least three other people know we're here. It's a big ship, but you can't hide forever. And killing a high-ranking officer of the U. N. Spacy won't be good for you. I won't be able to protect you if I'm dead."

Milia paused, then returned the dagger to her sleeve. "You make a good point. Then what would you have of me?"

Nabiki grinned. "Simple. We've learned a lot about the males of your people. But nothing of the females, save that they are different." She leaned forward, rested her chin on her folded hands. "What can you tell me of your culture?"

* * *

"You said there were three reasons," said Misa.

"Mm?" Ranma looked up from his coffee. "What d'ya mean?"

"When you told Minmay that you couldn't train her in martial arts, you told her there were three reasons. But you only explained two of them."

"Oh." Ranma chuckled. "Well, to begin with, those two were more than good enough. Right?"

"Yes, but I want to hear the third."

Ranma sighed, and set down the coffee cup. "Well, you know that Minmay still has that fixation on me, right? Or on my girl side, at least. The last thing I need is for her to have an excuse to spend more time with me."

Misa shook her head. "That's not the entire reason, is it?"

"Not entirely, no, but that's the core of it. You've heard some of the stories about my Mom, right? She thought Minmay was all that and a bag of potato chips, and also figured that she an' I were datin'. Even after she learned about you, she kept sorta pushin' Minmay to chase me. She figures that anyone as manly as me ought to have three or four girls on the go at once."

"Oh."

"So I also want to avoid any further possibility that she might decide to chase me or somethin'. You know how teenage girls are."

"Yes, I do." Misa chuckled. "Much better than you do."

"Granted, but..." He shrugged. "It took me two years to work out the mess of women chasin' me back before Akane an' I finally got married. I don't wanna risk that sort of mess again." He looked down at his coffee. "Shampoo and Ukyo got hurt the worst out of that, but nobody came away from it unscarred. The Kunos were sectioned, Nabiki built her Ice Queen persona, Ukyo was renounced by her family, and Shampoo..." He sighed. "She spent some time in a Japanese jail, but when she was released, Cologne locked her curse. She's been trapped as a c-c-" He shuddered. "A _cat_, for the rest of her life. All because of me."

"I seriously doubt that it was entirely your fault," said Misa. "Or even remotely. As I understand it, she chose to pursue you, due to some obscure law of a barbaric tribe at the edge of the known world. She failed to win you, and endangered the woman you loved by her actions. I'm amazed that even _you_ let her live."

"I shoulda found a way," he muttered. "Some way to resolve it without taintin' her honour. Nobody deserves what she got done to her."

"What happened to Ukyo?"

"Mm?" He looked up. "Last I heard, she'd changed her last name - she was as mad at her dad for that entire fiasco as she was at me an' my Pop - and she's still runnin' her restaurant in Nerima. Nabiki might know more, but she ain't been in Nerima for a long time. She left shortly after I did."

"But at least she would still have visited her family," said Misa. "She might have touched base with Ukyo."

"Ukyo and Ryouga were the closest things I had to friends in Nerima, aside from Akane." He grinned mirthlessly. "A lot of people figured those two would get together or somethin', but Ryouga married that pig-farmer, Akari, shortly after Akane an' I got married. We got an invite to the weddin', but..." He looked down at his coffee. "It was for three days after the bombing." He shook his head. "Damn, I ain't really thought of Ryouga since my days in the Army."

"Oh?"

Ranma chuckled. "He was cursed, too. Turned into a little black pig. It crossed my mind once, years ago, since I was a Heavy Weapons specialist, that I was a pig-man, too."

Misa stared at him. "He turned into...a little black pig."

"Yeah."

"And you told me that Akane had a pet pig, that you never liked." Misa shook her head. "You never explained that completely to me, but...I'm guessing that Akane's P-Chan was Ryouga?"

"Give the girl a cigar," said Ranma. "Akane was nice, an' all, but not too swift on the up-take. She never figured that one out."

"But she took that pig into her room at night, undressed in front of him..." Misa shook her head again. "She must have been _livid_ when she figured it out."

"She never did. An' because I'd promised Ryouga never to tell anyone about his curse, I couldn't tell her."

"So you had Ryouga pretending to be Akane's pet pig, and you still considered him a friend?"

Ranma shrugged. "Closest thing I had, really."

"And half the girls in the district wanting to marry you, those crazy Kunos wanting to marry or kill you, depending on your gender, wandering martial artists trying to take a round out of you just for fun, that Kumon individual, Saffron--I still don't quite believe _that_ story--Herb locking you as a girl..." Misa sat down. "And all in the space of only two years. How the hell did you stay sane?"

Ranma shrugged again. "After Pops' training methods, it was all kinda tame."

* * *

Global considered the report sitting in front of him. "And your source refuses to be revealed?"

"That is regrettable, Sir, but unavoidable." Nabiki stood at attention in front of his desk. "I think it's good enough that we have a female defector at all."

"I would agree with that," said Global. "Any idea why she refuses to identify herself?"

"None, Sir. But to hazard a guess, I think that she might fear reprisals from the Zentraedi; she indicated that there are still espionage agents aboard."

"Among the defectors?"

"She didn't state so. Further, she stated that they were females, and all the defectors, with the exception of herself, are male."

"So I can expect that your next report will cover the females' culture?"

"Or lack thereof," she said. "However, it seems that their upbringing is little different from the men's, and I don't think that it warrants a separate report."

"So why are they superior?" Global leaned forward. "Why is it that the Zentraedi hold them in such great respect?"

"Sir, I'm not sure," admitted Nabiki. "They definitely _are_ superior - my source exhibited reflexes and tactical thinking greatly above that of most of the males I tested - but as to _why_, I have no idea."

Global considered, then asked, "How can you find out?"

"Genetic testing. Save that we don't have the materials for that."

"See if you can determine another means, Nabiki." Global leaned back and pulled his pipe from his pocket. "We need that data."

"Sure thing...Bruno."

Global's pipe fell from his hand. "You--"

"If you're going to first-name us, you can expect the same," she said sweetly. She gathered her papers and walked from his office.

Global scowled, then grabbed his pipe from his desktop and started packing it. Twice he opened his mouth, even though Nabiki was long gone, then stuck his pipe between his teeth and sparked a match.


	25. Chapter TwentyFour: The Razor's Edge

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Twenty-Four: The Razor's Edge**

**August 4th, 2010**

_Science and Technology Report_

_Prepared by Major Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_The Space Augmentation Combat System_

_The Valkyrie was originally designed to operate in as many possible environments as could be forseen. This included ground combat, underwater combat, air superiority, and space combat. However, one unit by itself could not possibly excel in all environments. In fact, it soon became apparent that no one unit could operate in all environments and still meet minimum requirements for combat worthiness._

_Therefore, the designers concentrated on two environments - air and ground - and allowed the other two to take a back seat, as it were, for design purposes. Nonetheless, the U. N. Spacy continued to insist that the Valkyrie be able to fulfill all roles with at least a certain amount of efficiency._

_As a result, augmentation systems became available with the introduction of the VF-1J. Six firm points exist on the structure of the VF-1J, and an array of augmentation packages were designed to improve the Valkyrie's capabilities in alternate environments. This report will cover one in particular, the Space Augmentation Combat System._

_Three shortcomings were realized in the Valkyrie's space combat capabilities. First, its lack of reaction mass is a severe limitation in space. During atmospheric operations, it can use air for reaction mass, but in space, it must rely on its internal bunkerage. Second, despite the increased payload of the J-type Valkyrie, it cannot carry sufficient missiles to carry out anti-shipping operations. Finally, its vernier thrusters do not provide sufficient angular momentum or co-ordination for proper zero-gee operations._

_To correct the first fault, two large packages were added to the back of the Valkyrie. Each of these contains an additional fifteen hundred kilograms of reaction mass, as well as a vectored-thrust rocket nozzle, giving it greater acceleration in space. These two packages also contain additional missile launchers, allowing the Valkyrie to carry sixteen Coral Snake missiles, and carries BRCLOS targeting gear to guide eight at a time._

_Two packages mounted one to each leg carry six hundred kilograms of reaction mass each, as well as containing vernier thrusters tied into a modular flight computer. This system, called Space Manoeuvering Attitude Reaction Thrusters (SMART) gives much greater angular momentum in zero-gee. Combined with the vectored-thrust nozzles, the SACS-equipped Valkyrie can change vector considerably more quickly._

_Finally, to augment the Valkyrie's throw-weight, each arm receives a package with two missile bays, each capable of carrying a Jackhammer missile or two Diamondback missiles. What appear to be launch tubes at the leading edge of these packages are in fact additional chaff and flare launchers, bringing the total number of charges to thirty-two of each. The Jackhammer is to date the closest thing to an anti-shipping missile that the Valkyrie can carry, and with this package in place, the VF-1J can carry ten Jackhammers plus its sixteen Coral Snakes, in addition to its gun pod and laser armament._

* * *

"_Skull Thirteen, LSO, say state._"

Ranma clicked his mike open. "Skull Thirteen, ball, Victor Foxtrot One Juliet, seventeen hundred."

"_Affirm, Skull Thirteen. Call your needles._"

"My needles are right and high." The needles - actually a pair of lines on his right MFD - indicated his flight path relative to the optimum landing path for his trap.

"_Needles are good. Ride the path._"

Ranma checked the optical landing aid - called the meatball for reasons both ancient and obscure - and compared it to the automatic carrier landing system's readout, then adjusted his flight path.

"_Slow._"

He decreased throttle. This was the most nerve-wracking part of carrier aviation, either in atmosphere or out of it.

"_Down._"

His thumb flicked the trim control, pushing the nose of the fighter down a half-degree. He had to trust the Landing Signal Officer to bring his bird home.

"_Left._"

Another flick of the thumb. No matter how bad his angle seemed to be from the office, the LSO could see him better, and guide him in for a perfect trap.

As long as he trusted the LSO.

"Engage CLS."

Ranma gritted his teeth, and flipped the switch on the left control panel that brought the carrier landing system online. The computer took over, judging his speed and angle of attack, then switching the fighter to GERWALK.

"_Wave off, wave off!_"

Ranma switched off CLS, grabbed and yanked the F lever, and firewalled his throttle. He jerked back on the stick as hard as he dared, and the Valkyrie roared past the deck.

"Dammit, the computer ain't adjustin' for the heavier load!" He wished he could wipe his forehead, but his helmet was still sealed.

"_Okay, Thirteen, calm down. Come about, match velocity, and we'll try it again._"

He brought the fighter around, the controls feeling sluggish under his hand. Which made sense, since he was carrying several extra tonnes of gear.

"LSO, Thirteen. I think we need to disregard the needles and bring it in on the ball alone. Or maybe go for a tether."

"_Let me know when you match velocity again, and we'll decide then._"

"Roger." He tumbled the fighter, bringing it nose-on to the landing deck, and gave a short blast from his engines to bring the jet to relative rest.

"_Thirteen, say state._"

"Negative ball." He thumbed the trim controls again, shifting the jet downwards until he could see the light from the ball. "Okay. Thirteen, ball, seven hundred."

"_Thirteen, LSO. You don't have enough gas to bolter again._"

"I know." Ranma scowled. "We could try barricade, or a tether grab."

"_Your call, Thirteen._"

Ranma considered. Either solution would look bad on his copybook, but getting this bird on the deck took precedent. On the other hand, a successful trap would give Bell the numbers she needed to dial the CLS in to a fare-thee-well.

"Let's try the trap again."

"_Okay, Thirteen. Give me plus five._"

_Takin' it cautious, ain't he?_ Ranma opened the throttles a crack, started the bird forward at five meters per second relative to the landing deck.

"_Disregard needles. Call the ball._"

"Ball is high and center."

"_Confirm. Keep steady._"

Ranma kept one eye on his velocity vector, another on the ball. He bit his lip as the light slid off the center point, vanishing below the lower marker. "Negative ball."

"_Keep steady._"

_Oh, man, I hope this joker knows his shit._

"_Speed up._"

Ranma goosed the throttle a bit.

"_Down._"

He eased the trim controls, bringing the nose down.

"_Call the ball._"

"Thirteen, ball is high and center."

"_Keep steady._"

"Negative ball."

"_Drop true._"

Ranma yanked the G lever, and the ship reconfigured again to GERWALK. "Ball is high."

"_Up._"

Just a touch of the throttle trim. "Negative ball."

"_Steady._"

The Valkyrie crossed _Prometheus'_ gravity deck, and started to sink.

"_Up._"

Another touch of the throttle. "Ball is high and sinking."

"_Flare._"

Ranma angled the nose down, and increased throttle. His back jets fired downwards, his leg jets matching them, and the GERWALK touched down, sliding out over half the gravity deck.

* * *

"Next time we use this package, I'll have the CLS dialled right in for you," promised Bell.

Ranma grunted. "Remember that once we bring SMART online, it'll change flight profile."

"You do your job, and I'll do mine," said Bell. "Wonder how long it took them to come up with that acronym?"

"Yeah." Ranma leaned back, and sipped his coffee.

"Now, as far as I can tell, all the exercise weapons performed as promised."

"The gun didn't," Ranma said with a scowl. "That's the third time I've had a malfunction with a GU-11 on that bird. Can't use it in fighter mode at all. Three different g-pods, as well. It ain't the guns, so it's gotta be the bird."

"I'll get on that," promised Bell. "The guns performed properly in GERWALK and Battroid mode, correct?"

"Yeah." Ranma nodded. "So I'd check the--" He broke off. "Sorry. Your job."

Bell chuckled. "You were going to say, check the fire control relays and the switching units?"

"Somethin' like that."

"We checked those last time your gun failed. This time, we're gonna disassemble the whole damn gun system, and check everything one piece at a time."

"That'll take a while."

"We'll try to have her back together in the next eight hours."

"Okay." Ranma sighed, and turned to his computer console. "I got a mess of reports to fill out on the test flight. So I won't keep you here any longer."

"Thank you, Sir." Bell saluted, and Ranma returned it absent-mindedly.

* * *

"This is the best chance for peace that we've had in a long while," argued Misa. "And I think it should be argued before the United Nations Council."

Global shook his head. "I don't think that the U. N. Council is in charge any more. Each dispatch I get from Command makes it more and more obvious that the entire Earth is falling back into a military dictatorship." He frowned. "Or oligarchy. The Admiralty seems to be running everything from Elmendorf."

"Then I should approach them," said Misa. "I might still have some influence over my father. I know he's not really the same man that you served under - time and command will change anyone - but I still think that he's got the best interests of Earth's people at heart."

"That is exactly why I don't trust him on this," said Global. "Any peaceful resolution of this conflict is going to end with Earth having to give up _something_, and the odds are good that the Zentraedi will want this ship. And that's assuming that we can make any kind of deal with them in the first place."

"But--"

"Plus, unless you've forgotten, if the Earth is now in the grasp of a military government, it would be your father, as the only full Admiral, who'll have his hands on the reins."

Misa shook her head. "Father is too devoted to the principals of the U. N. Forces to allow that to happen."

"Is he?" Global smirked. "'The only rights they have are the ones that they can take for themselves, or that we, their chosen representatives, choose to enshrine.' Sound familiar?"

"That--"

"Plus, he was completely willing to disregard the rights of those not in uniform. That combination strikes me as _precisely_ the sort of attitude that would fit a military dictator." Global shook his head. "No, I don't think he can be trusted to negotiate in good faith."

"Even if he can't be trusted, it might be worth doing just to keep the Admiralty busy arguing," offered Misa. "If they're harmlessly diverted, they won't be doing something stupid and counter-productive. 'Jaw-jaw is better than war-war', even if the government has to be fooled into doing the jawing."

"Quoting Churchill would be more effective if my grandfather hadn't died in that war," observed Global. Then chuckled. "Of course, it was the Axis powers who stopped talking and started fighting."

"Yes, Sir. Including the Japanese." Misa smiled and pointed at herself. "Should we get Chief Engineer Lang up here too, so the Germans are represented as well?"

"Your proposed trip. Do you really think it will do any good?"

"Sir, I just don't know," she admitted. "But you know what will happen if I don't make the effort?"

"Yes. Nothing." Global considered, then reluctantly nodded. "All right. Talk to Lieutenant Grant, get your vectors plotted."

* * *

Ranma scowled. "Misa, you know damn well that when your dad gets you back under his thumb, he ain't gonna let you go."

"I am an adult, Ranma. I can choose where I want to go." Misa zipped her suitcase, and glanced around her quarters. "There's nothing he can really do to stop me."

"Well, actually, there is," pointed out Ranma. "You're a sworn officer of the U. N. Spacy. All he needs to do is to order you not to go."

"I'm assigned on a permanent basis to Captain Global."

"Orders can be changed," he said. "On top of that, I ain't so sure that he's gonna listen to you anyway."

"_Someone_ has to try, and my word carries more impact than, say, Claudia's." She turned to face him. "_I_ think that your problem lies in the fact that I'm leaving, not the mission."

"Of course," said Ranma. "Because I know that once you leave, you ain't gonna be allowed back. And this ship needs you."

"What about you?"

Ranma blinked. "Me?"

"Do you know, Ranma, that not once in the five months that we've been dating, have you told me that you loved me?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Not even once! Hell, we've been _sleeping_ together for at least three months, and you've never said it. What am I to you?"

"You're my girlfriend."

"What a tame way to put it." She knew it sounded accusatory, but she couldn't help that. "Others have called us lovers. I've even heard one person refer to you as my fiance."

"I--"

"But no, just a girlfriend." She shook her head. "And when I'm about to leave, on a mission that you fear I won't return from, you argue that it would be bad for the _ship!_ What about _us?_"

"Of course I'm worried about what this will do to us!" He stood up, started pacing. "Misa, you know I ain't so good at expressin' my feelings. Hell, it took me a year and a half to open up to Akane!"

"We've known each other ten years, Ranma. If you haven't managed to open up to me by now, I seriously doubt it's going to happen."

"Akane an' I were engaged within seconds of meetin' each other, Misa. We've only been together for half a year."

"Dammit, Ranma!" She balled her fists. "This so-called relationship has been staggering along, almost stagnant from the start. I _still_ can't be sure where I stand with you. This has to change. I need a commitment!"

"I thought you woulda realized by now that you had it."

She felt the blood drain from her face. "You...you son of a _bitch!_"

"Huh?"

Almost of their own accord, her fingers found the clasp of the chain, and she pulled the Pallasite pendant from its place at her throat. It flew across the compartment, striking his chest and dropping to the decksole.

He stared at her, confusion warring with disbelief on his face.

She grabbed her suitcase and stormed out of the compartment. She was halfway down the corridor before the tears got past her control.

* * *

Max whistled. "Thing of beauty."

Hikaru glanced up. "Oh, they're finally fielding the Space Augmentation Combat System?"

"I wish," said Max. "No, that's still the prototype, undergoing evaluations. But damned if it isn't nice to see it ready to rock."

"VF-176...that's _Hawkwing_, Saotome's jet."

"Yeah. I saw the livery as we walked in."

Hikaru snorted. "I suppose it makes sense that he's getting to do the test-pilot thing, since he's in bed with the XO. _Literally_ in bed."

"If you want to keep your teeth in your head, I'd advise against making such remarks within earshot of either of them," said Max. "But as it happens, the system's being pushed by Jackson, who went straight to the Skipper to choose Saotome for the test pilot."

"How'd you hear about all this?" Hikaru scratched his head. "I mean, I'm his CO, but all I heard was that he was being temporarily detached."

Max grinned. "We Snakes have been playing the Aggressor for him. All eighteen of us, and he can kill us all in a heartbeat."

"One hell of a package."

"One hell of a pilot, too." Max glanced sidelong at his friend and former CO. "He can do shit with a Valkyrie that makes my head hurt just looking at, and adding the SMART system just makes his manouevres that much more screwy."

"Well, that's good, I suppose, but how's his accuracy?" Hikaru frowned. "I'm sure that if he's jinking around that much, he's not going to be hitting much."

"He puts steel on target with each and every pull of the trigger," said Max. "Why are you so down on him?"

"Huh?"

"He went to bat for you for your promotion, your command, and he's been backing you to the hilt as CO of the Skull. But you've done nothing but call him down for at least the last two weeks."

"I'm not trying to belittle the guy," said Hikaru defensively. "I just don't think he's as good as everyone seems to think he is."

"You're right about that," said Max. Then waited a beat. "He's _better_ than most people think he is. If anything, the Valkyrie's been slowing him down."

"Okay, I'll agree that he's a madman in combat," said Hikaru. "Way better than I'll ever be, or even you. And I have nothing personal against him."

"Then why the trash talk?"

"I dunno. Maybe it's jealousy," admitted Hikaru. "I mean, I was used to thinking of myself as the best pilot ever to strap on a pair of wings, and then along comes Saotome, and makes me look like a bumbling chump."

"Trust me, even I feel that way next to him," chuckled Max. "And on top of that, he's the single best martial artist that I've ever even _heard_ of. Who wouldn't be jealous?"

"There's a shuttle prepping." Hikaru indicated it. "Is that your mission?"

"Yeah, my Alpha flight is escorting it." Max reached his jet, the _Falconeur_, and started his walk-around. "Considering how V. I. the VIP aboard is, I'm not surprised they want six jets for backup."

"Who is--Hey, that's Misa!"

Max paused, and glanced over at his friend. _For once,_ he mused, _I actually understand how two plus two can come to five._

"Yo, Hikaru."

"Yeah?"

"Trust me on this: If Ranma even suspects you're poaching on his turf, he is going to beat you into a thin red paste."

"I'm not--"

"Keep it that way." Max scowled. "If you coulda seen the expression on your clock right about now..."

"_What?_" Hikaru shook his head. "Look, Max, you got it just about as wrong as you can, okay? I mean, Misa an' I aren't really at loggerheads right now, but I'm not about to go off chasing her, okay? I ain't stupid."

"Besides that, you're still technically dating Minmay."

Hikaru snorted. "And while we're on the subject of poaching. All that Minmay seems to want to talk about recently is Saotome. 'Bout how cool he is, how nice he is, how he's helpin' her learn to fly...Shit. _I_ could be teaching her to fly. But I hardly see her at all any more, between the schedules we're both keeping."

"Maybe you should discuss that with her." Max turned back to his walk-around. "Instead of talking to me about it, that is, or staring at other women with your tongue hanging out."

"I'm not--"

"Okay, forget I mentioned it." He waved it off, and bent down to check the underwing ordnance. "Do me a favour, and run down an Ordie, will you? I got a missile here with no tag."

"Okay, sure." Hikaru jogged off, and Max straightened up, and glanced back towards the shuttle.

_Where's Saotome? You'd think he'd be seeing her off...and Misa looks like hell._ He glanced back towards _Hawkwing_, and frowned.

* * *

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

Misa settled back into the acceleration couch, and dropped her face into her hands.

_I_ knew _going into this that he was a private person, that he doesn't easily show his feelings. I knew how devoted he is to those he cares for...why couldn't I_ see _that? Why did I have to lash out like that?_

"Ma'am, are you all right?"

She glanced up at the shuttle's cargomaster. "I'll live, Sergeant."

"Departure procedures, Ma'am. I need you to fasten your accel harness."

"Okay." She clipped the harness together, and the cargomaster double-checked it for her. Then straightened up and turned to leave.

"Sergeant, can I make a call from here?"

"Certainly, Ma'am." He turned back and activated the commo system. "Tied into the _Macross_ phone network. Just dial as usual."

"Thank you, Sergeant." She hurriedly dialled his telephone number, and waited.

The phone rang four times, and then picked up.

"_You've reached Saotome Ranma's phone, but I ain't in at the moment. At the sound of the tone, well...you know what to do._"

The answering system beeped, and she opened her mouth to apologize...but couldn't say a thing.

_I know I was in the wrong...why can't I say it? Why can't I tell him I'm sorry for hurting him?_

She listlessly hung up the receiver, and turned to stare out the porthole.

* * *

"_Gunsight Five, Snake Lead. I have bandits inbound, and we are engaging._"

"Damn it," growled Global. "Nothing for three weeks, and then they choose _now_, of all times, to try something."

"Sir, the shuttle is well outside Cat's Eye or BARCAP range. In fact, I don't even think we can vector a Valkyrie that direction in time to make a difference."

"The Diamondbacks are second only to the Rogers for skill, Shammy." Global pulled his pipe from his pocket and jammed it between his teeth.

"_Gunsight Five, Snake Lead. We count eighty Battle Pods and one Officer's Pod. Requesting assistance._"

"Snake Lead, Gunsight Five. We'll see what we can send out." Shammy turned back to the Captain. "Sir, they're badly outnumbered, and Lt. Jenius wouldn't request backup unless he really thought he needed it."

"But you said it yourself, Shammy. No Valkyrie can make it to that fight in time."

"One can, Sir."

Global realized instantly which one she was referring to. He grinned. "And I can only think of one officer qualified to pilot that machine."

* * *

"**Lieutenant Saotome, scramble orders. Proceed to the flight deck.**"

The announcement snapped Ranma out of his depressed funk. He was on his feet and running towards the lift before the bitch box cut off. He stabbed the lift controls, then the intercom.

"Saotome. I'm on my way to the flight deck. What gives?"

"_We've got a horde of enemy Battle Pods chasing a VIP shuttle, and they're chewing up the Snakes. There's only one machine that can make a difference. I called Warrant Bell, and they're prepping_ Hawkwing _for launch as we speak._"

"Roger that, Gunsight Five. Call down there, and tell 'em I want the Diamondback Sixteen Plus package, and make sure my damned gun is plugged in this time."

"_Will do, Lieutenant._"

The lift came to a halt, and he tore across the flight deck to his ship, unzipping his uniform jacket as he went. He dropped the jacket into the somewhat surprised hands of a refuelling technician, and grabbed his flight suit from Bell.

"We're loading the last of the Diamondbacks now, Sir, and we found the problem with the gun."

"Yeah?"

"Details at eight. It'll work for you now."

"Good. Fuel state?"

"Six tonnes."

"I'll be bringing her back dry. In fact, I'd like a tanker."

"We'll get a buddy sent up."

Ranma leaped up to the cockpit. He could already hear the whining of the auxiliary power unit; someone had done half his pre-flight for him. In a scramble, he wasn't about to complain. The ordies finished with the weapons check, and ran clear of the jet. He started his left engine, ran it to quarter power to test, then started the right. The canopy came down, and he checked the fittings, then disengaged the wheel brakes as a deck tractor pulled up.

His nav computer beeped at him as he was going through the final weapon system configuration, giving him his co-ordinates and burn time. He overrode the defaults, reserving only five hundred kilos of fuel for the actual fight. This shaved two minutes off his flight time, and two minutes might save a lot of Diamondback lives.

Not to mention Misa's.

The jet shuddered as the tractor deposited it on the liftlock. Ranma waved the tractor off; he wasn't going to have time for a cat shot. He'd drawn three reprimands so far for ignoring deck protocol during a scramble, but he just didn't care. The liftlock sealed in front of him, and opened above and behind. Ranma didn't wait for it to begin elevating; he shifted the jet to GERWALK - no mean feat while it was still on its landing gear - rocketed straight up from the deck, and shifted back to Jet.

"Gunsight Five, Skull Thirteen. I am clear of _Prometheus_, and am starting my burn."

"_Good hunting, Thirteen._"

He hit the commit button, and was mashed back into the seat as the engines began generating thrust. A _lot_ of thrust. _Hawkwing_ surged forward at three gees of acceleration, burning over a hundred kilos of reaction mass per second. Forty-seven seconds after ignition, his speed was nearly fourteen hundred meters per second, and the engines cut out.

_Six minutes ETA. I hope I get there in time._

* * *

Max gritted his teeth. Four Snakes has been shot down, and his wingman was damaged. His Flight had knocked down fifty enemy pods, but both he and Richardson were out of missiles, out of ammo for the guns, and while the lasers were working fine, they were now running out of reaction mass.

_If they're sending help, it'd better get here soon._

His RWR pinged at him, but not the hostile sound of an enemy radar; this was the helpful chime of a Valkyrie-J's powerful radar suite.

"_Snake Lead, this is Skull Thirteen._"

"Oh, man, am I glad to see you," said Max.

"_I bet. Power down your radar; I need freqs clear._"

Max hastily shut down his radar. No need to order Richardson to do the same; his radar was among the damaged equipment on his jet.

"_Thanks, Max. Now sit back and watch the fireworks._ Contrails were spreading out from _Hawkwing_, Diamondback missiles from their speed, and they lanced into the Zentraedi robots. Detonations peppered the dense formation with fragments, tearing through the lightly armoured units like a knife through warm butter. Eleven Pods exploded from impact, and another five tumbled out of formation, bleeding air.

But _Hawkwing_ wasn't letting up just yet. She continued to bore in, spitting Coral Snake missiles - _How the hell can he carry all that?_ Max wondered idly. The Coral Snakes were less accurate and lower on speed, but Saotome managed to smack down another seven Pods. Then tumbled his Valkyrie, reconfiguring to Soldier, and tossed something towards Max.

"_Catch!_"

He caught it. A GU-11 gun pod clip. Max grinned wolfishly, ejected his empty clip, and rammed the fresh one home.

Ranma was burning to match velocity now, his gun pod firing burst after burst into the enemy Pods. Max joined in, working his way in from the other side of the formation. Apparently unnerved by the ferocity of the attack, the Zentraedi forces broke and ran.

But before running, the Officer's Pod launched six missiles.

Straight at the shuttle.

Max gaped at the missiles, then brought up the gun pod and hosed down the first. But they flashed across his engagement window too quickly to get the rest.

But Ranma was there. The increased speed and turn rate of the SMART system allowed him to match velocity with the missiles, and he pegged another one with his head laser. But even he could not shoot them all down before they reached their target.

Max's eyes widened, as Ranma put on more speed, then veered out into the path of the missiles. _Hawkwing_ tumbled, bringing its arms up, and blocked the missiles with its own body.

The glare of the explosions highlighted _Hawkwing_ for a moment, before the blasts shoved it away, tumbling into space.

"Saotome!" Max reconfigured to Jet mode and firewalled his throttles. He was dangerously low on reaction mass, but right at the moment, he didn't give a damn. He overtook _Hawkwing_, and grabbed it, stopping its tumble.

"Skull Thirteen, Snake Lead. You okay in there?"

"_I'll live, Snake._"

Max breathed a sigh of relief. "That new armour is right impressive, isn't it?"

Ranma chuckled. "_I arranged for tanker support, there's a Valkyrie with a buddy store about ten minutes out. I'm assumin' that you're on fumes?_"

"Pretty close."

"_Can ya match velocity with the shuttle? That's the vector that the tanker is expectin'."_

"Can do."

* * *

Her heart had stopped when she'd seen _Hawkwing_ shield the shuttle from the missiles, but now that she saw _Falconeur_ and _Hawkwing_ lining up beside the shuttle, she breathed a sigh of relief.

_Thank God he's all right!_

_Hawkwing_ lined up next to her porthole, and she saw his running lights flicker. _Morse code. I'm probably the only person on this shuttle who can see the message._

**MISA SORRY I HURT YOU**

Tears welled in her eyes. _Even if I'm too much of a coward to say it...even though I was the one in the wrong..._

**NEVER PROMISED THIS WOULD BE EASY**

_Too right, it isn't. Maybe we have a chance after all, though...if I can--_

**STILL WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND**

_No..._

**SHOULD STOP WHILE WE STILL CAN BE**

Tears were running down her cheeks now, but she ignored them.

_The best thing that ever happened to me, and I was too stupid, too stubborn, too full of pride to see it. I drove him away._

_Hawkwing_ slid away from the port, resuming normal escort distance, and Misa turned away to look ahead. Towards her mission.

At least _that_ she hadn't lost.


	26. Chapter TwentyFive: The Warrior's Path

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Twenty-Five: The Warrior's Path**

**August 11th, 2010**

_Science and Technology Report_

_Prepared by Major Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division_

_The GA-31C Jackhammer MMS and the GA-34 Stiletto_

_As the Valkyrie frequently finds itself outnumbered by the Zentraedi forces, and since the standard Zentraedi Battle Pod is most charitably described as flimsy, there have been several attempts to improve the quantity of firepower that the Valkyrie can lift. One solution to date has been the Space Augmentation Combat System, which permits up to twenty additional missiles to be carried. However, the primary purpose of that package is to improve space manoeuvreability._

_Research and Development has thus turned to new weapons systems. The first development is the GA-34 Stiletto. Based upon the GS-11 Coral Snake missile, the GA-34 is a lightweight, passive infrared homing missile. The shaped charge warhead has been replaced with an annular fragmentation blast warhead, and by removing the BRCLOS system in favour of the IR system, the weapon becomes fire and forget. However, due to the limited computer carried by the weapon, it has a bad tendency to lock onto_ anything _within its cone, and as such is of limited use in a dogfight._

_However, the light weight of the weapon - 85 kilos, down from the 95 kilos of the Coral Snake - offers another option as well. The GA-31B Jackhammer has been re-engineered to carry four Stilettos in place of its standard warhead. In addition, the guidance system has been simplified, the laser guidance being deleted and the inertial guidance reduced in size. Finally, the motor has been re-tuned, giving the missile lower acceleration and fuel consumption. However, upon reaching its programmed attack point, the missile can then engage up to four separate targets with the Stilettos._

_This combination of weapons grants a single Valkyrie the ability to attack a theoretical maximum of twenty-four targets during the closing battle, or a maximum of thirty-two if also using the Space Augmentation FAST packs. In addition, the Stiletto may be carried and deployed by the same systems that can carry and deploy the Coral Snake, and is better suited for space combat as well._

_Brevity call for a GA-31C remains Golf One. Brevity call for a Stiletto attack is Golf Three. Pilots hearing a Golf Three call should remember that the Stiletto has no means of distinguishing between friend or foe._

* * *

"You've been moping about in your quarters for the last week," said Max. "Look, I know that you and Misa broke up. I know that that's rough on you."

"Leave me alone, Max." Ranma glared at him. "You ain't got no idea what's goin' through my head."

"Don't I?" Max shook his head. "I don't know if you dumped her, or she dumped you, or if it was a mutual decision. But I've been through a break-up myself, and I know that it doesn't exactly make people happy inside."

"What is it gonna take for you to leave me alone?"

Max shrugged. "You could tell me what happened."

"I'd rather not," said Ranma. "It's kinda private, ya know? If Misa's willin' to tell ya, when she gets back, you can tell her I said go ahead, but I gotta think of her privacy, too."

"In that case, I can help you unwind," said Max. "Give you a chance to work off some of your anger."

Ranma considered, then said, "You've got a point. Okay. I'll promise I'll head out an' find some company. But not just yet, okay? Gimme about an hour."

"Fair enough." Max stood and headed for the hatch. "Your sixty minutes starts now."

Ranma snorted. "Get out of here!"

* * *

It wasn't sixty minutes. It was more like twenty.

Once Ranma had fixed his attention on something - _anything_ - he found himself drawn back to action. He showered, scraped the stubble from his chin, and pulled on a fresh set of his Chinese silks. He glanced at the clock, shrugged, and jotted a note for Max. On his way out, he stuck it to the door with a bit of blue tack.

The area around the White Dragon looked as good as new, he was glad to see. He walked in, the bell over the door announcing him. Minmay looked up. "Ranma!"

"Hey, kid."

"I heard about you and Misa--"

He raised a hand. "No. Anything else. But I ain't talkin' about that, okay?"

"Okay."

Ranma sat down and sighed. "Sorry. But I just..."

"It's all right, Ranma. I understand." Minmay grinned. "How about this? I managed to get a bit more free time."

"How so?"

"My manager decided that we shouldn't release a fourth album just yet. Said that the sales figures on the third one weren't all that he expected. He figures that having just one entertainer aboard who's releasing albums is part of the problem. So he gave me a few weeks off while he scouts for more talent."

"I...guess that's good."

"Well, I was a bit put off when he told me," admitted Minmay. "But I saw his point. So he's trying to recruit a male band, something with more of an edge. And in the meantime, I get some spare time." She grinned. "So you want to go to the arcade with me, and I can get some more flying in?"

"Not really," said Ranma. "Listen, when was the last time that you talked with Hikaru?"

"It _has_ been a while...between his schedule, and mine, we never seemed to have time to get together."

"I know. That's what he was complainin' to me about the other day."

Minmay blinked. "He was talking to you about that?"

"Not precisely." Ranma paused, and looked down at his hands. "He was bitchin' about the fact that _I've_ spent more time with you than _he_ has."

"But whenever we've spent time together, you've been a girl!"

"That's the only reason he hasn't tried to take a swing at me yet," said Ranma. And snorted. "Not that it'd land, but it'd be irritatin' for him to try. But his patience won't last forever."

"But what am I supposed to do?" Minmay threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "He's always off on one mission or another, whereas you've had that test-pilot work until recently--"

"But now that that's over, I'm goin' back to the Skulls, effective tomorrow, an' I don't need my CO pissed off at me." He scowled. "Pardon the language."

Minmay giggled. "Don't worry about it." She sobered again. "But seriously. What can I do about this? I'm not willing to give up a good friend just because Hikaru's getting jealous."

"You need to discuss that with Hikaru, not me. But in the meantime, I wanna cut down the amount of time I'm spendin' with ya, just ta keep him from freakin' out on me." He looked up as the bell rang. "Yo, Max."

"Got your note. Figured you'd be stuffing your face by now."

Ranma shrugged. "I decided I wasn't hungry."

"Who said that?"

"Shut up, Max." Ranma stood up. "I was talkin' to Kamidake last week, an' he said that he's got the _Valkyrie!_ game dialled in closer for Soldier emulation. So we might even be able to use it as a training sim."

Max grimaced. "Everything with you is training, isn't it?"

"How do you think I became the best?" Ranma grinned. "Let's go give it a whirl, shall we?"

"Christ, some of us work day in and day out, and then on our days off, what do we do for fun?" Max rolled his eyes. "More of the same."

"'Six days shall ye work, and do all you are able,'" began Ranma.

"'The seventh the same, and muck out the stable.'" Max held the door open. "Age before beauty."

"Pride before fall," countered Ranma. But he stepped through, waving back at Minmay as he left.

"Christ, between you and Hikaru, I can't keep track of who's chasing whom anymore."

Ranma rolled his eyes. "I ain't chasin' Minmay. She's young enough to be my daughter." He frowned. "Well, my neice, anyway. I think I've got cause to worry about her chasin' _me_, though."

"I didn't notice anything of that sort."

"You wouldn't." Ranma rubbed his chin with a finger. "Normally, whenever I go in there, I get a face full of cold water. But not today."

"Cold water." Max frowned. "Why would she do that?"

"She's fixated on my girl side," he said.

Max laughed. "You're still trying to pull my leg with that one? I must say, you and your sister are really sticking to that--"

"Bonehead!" Ranma scowled. "Look, I know you're stubborn, and more than a bit stupid--"

"This from a guy I've helped out in the past."

"Look, I'll prove it!" He glanced around. "Shit. Par for the course. No cold water. Let's go back to the Dragon and I'll--"

Max waved. "No need, no need. I'll play along for the moment. Or at least, I shan't bother you with it again today."

"Fair enough," growled Ranma.

He glanced ahead, spotted the Terrible Trio approaching from the other direction. "I'll even stop pestering 'you' for a date," he added.

"Good for your health."

"...Since 'you' are an avowed lesbian." He'd timed it just right; the Trio were just passing them, and all three broke into giggles.

Ranma twitched, and turned on Max. "Look, jackass, I'm gonna--"

"Calm down, Ranma." Vanessa grinned. "We know which way you swing!"

Ranma cracked his knuckles. "Max...start runnin'."

* * *

_Macross_ did not have a full-scale genetics lab, but Elmendorf Air Force Base did. Admiral Hayase studied the display, watched as the Human DNA strand gave way to the Zentraedi DNA strand, then as the two merged, cancelling out the common genes. Leaving only two, and neither of them overly important.

"Remarkable. With the exception of cosmetic differences, these people and ours might as well be identical." He sat down opposite his daughter, and scowled. "Practically the same species; probably more accurate to think of them and us as merely different _breeds_ of humanity."

"And they're adapting easily to our culture," added Misa. "Almost as though they _need_ it."

"They probably do," allowed Hayase. He pulled a cigarette from his breast pocket, and lit it.

"You used to hate that habit," observed Misa.

"Running the whole damned U. N. Spacy can be stressful," he said. "Having my daughter angry at me didn't help."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said. "I've been an ass. I admit it. But as to the Zentraedi...They've got a...a _void_ where culture normally lives. They try filling it with warfare, but that only goes so far." He crossed his arms, the cigarette in his left hand tracing a ribbon of smoke in the air. "This evidence changes everything. Clearly, we have to change our attitude towards these people."

Misa felt hope flare in her heart. She leaned forward eagerly. "So you will try to persuade the other Admirals to enter into peace negotiations with the Zentraedi?"

"I'll do my best," said Hayase. "But you must remember that, even as a full Admiral, this gives me power only to order a cease-fire. A clear majority - that's two-thirds - of the Admiralty Staff has to agree to negotiations."

"Is that a rank-based vote?"

"Yes," he said. "So I get four votes. But there's two Vice Admirals and five Rear Admirals, and at least twelve Commodores, all on the Admiralty Staff." He looked away. "There's a very good chance that the vote won't go our way."

* * *

"You're right," admitted Max. "The mods do allow for a more accurate simulation of Battroid Mode. I'm just sayin' that they still aren't accurate enough."

"They allow for a wide range of hand-to-hand options," argued Ranma. They were up on the upper level of the arcade, watching one of the other patrons putting a simulated Battroid through its paces.

"That's fine for you, but I still think the mobility is ramped up too high," said Max. "We don't want new nuggets thinking they can pull off stunts like we can right out of the tin."

"Why not?" Ranma shrugged. "Gives 'em somethin' to aspire to, right? Not to mention, if they don't think they can do it, then they _can't_, right?"

"Good point," conceded Max. He blinked. "Whoa...talk about luck."

"Hm?" Ranma glanced over and down, to see Milia at one of the other _Valkyrie!_ games. She wore a dark wine bodysuit, offset by a yellow scarf - badly offset, in Ranma's opinion; the colours looked a bit garish together. "Oh, her. Thought she turned you down?"

"Yeah, but unlike your sister, she's never admitted to playing for the other team."

"Do ya need a fresh set of lumps?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Saotome." Max picked up his tray of coins. "Grab your cash, and let's go over there. I want a chance to play against her."

Ranma rolled his eyes, but picked up his own tray. It wasn't as heavy as the one Max carried, but Ranma hadn't played as much, and hadn't been playing to win. He followed Max down to the lower level.

"Hey. We meet again."

Milia looked up at him, and smiled coldly. "Greetings, Max Jenius."

"Think we could have a game together? From what I've seen--" He indicated her own tray, sitting next to the simulator. "I think we'd be pretty evenly matched."

Milia looked at him, then up at Ranma. "No."

"No?"

"No. I've already determined that you are not whom I seek. I wish to play against _him_."

She pointed directly at Ranma.

Ranma blinked. "Me?"

"Yes. You are the other member of the Jolly Rogers who pilots a Valkyrie J-Type, are you not?"

"The only one, at the moment," said Ranma. "An' I ain't technically flyin' with the Rogers at the moment."

"That's right, she said she was looking for either you or Kakizaki," said Max. He gave Ranma a disgusted look. "Figures. Your sister's off the market, and the only other girl I've seen that's halfway interesting is interested in _you_."

Ranma waved his free hand. "This ain't my fault."

"Didn't say it was. Just a case of bad luck." Max snorted. "I'll try not to hold it against you. Enjoy your game." He turned and stomped off.

Ranma watched him leave, and scowled. "Max, ya seem to be combinin' the worst traits of Ryouga and Kuno."

"Shall we play?"

He turned back to her. "Look, Milia, that was really bad manners, ya know. Just brushin' him off like that--"

"I am not concerned with manners. Only with skill." She smiled crookedly. "Unless you think your skill is beneath mine?"

Ranma bristled, then sat down opposite her. "You betting your entire stash?"

"Yes, I think that would be appropriate."

"Awright, lady. Game on!"

Simulated GERWALK figures rose above the holographic table, and Ranma grabbed the stick. He slammed the Valkyrie into motion, diving towards her and spraying the area with gunfire. But the red GERWALK ducked and wove between tracers, returning fire with pinpoint accuracy, flying backwards as much as forwards.

A martial artist is more than one who practises his Art; he learns a sense of other Arts, knows how to feel them out and counter them, how to recognize a person's entire training history from seeing them execute just a few simple moves. It was only seconds into the battle before Ranma spotted her style...and realized with a chill that he'd seen it before.

_A female Zentraedi...and an Ace. An' I think I know just which one..._

He decided to test his theory, allowed himself to slow up just a touch...

She pounced, raking his GERWALK with fire. Then hesitated herself, hovering, and putting a few final rounds into his disintegrating unit...ensuring the kill.

_Bingo._ He looked up at her, and the world seemed to fade around them. Only _she_ existed to him right now...and he was nearly certain that he had fought her before.

For her part, she seemed most cocky. "I seem to have won that skirmish."

"Shall we try Level A?"

She smiled coldly. "Yes. Let's."

His Valkyrie reformed, reconfigured to Battroid. Again, he firewalled the throttle, this time stomping right rudder, so that his Battroid tumbled in mid-flight, and slammed into hers boot-first.

The move caught her by surprise; nobody had been warned of the upgrades to the _Valkyrie!_ simulation but he and Max. She recovered her Battroid from its tumble, and jetted towards him, gun pod spitting fire. He dodged the tracers, brought his gun pod around and pulled the trigger.

_Here's where I ran out of ammo._

He released the trigger, then stomped rudder again, bringing the Valkyrie around in a mid-air spin-kick.

But this time, Milia was ready for it. She parried the shot with the robot's left arm, and fired into his jet with the gun pod. Damage readouts lit up on his screen, but he ignored them. The gun pod was in the Battroid's right fist; with the left, he punched her Valkyrie, pushing her away. Then brought up the gun, and triggered three bursts into the Battroid's carapace.

The holographic Valkyrie absorbed the punishment without apparent damage. Milia pivoted again, launched another hail of gunfire at point-blank range. He jetted forward inside her minimum range, and tackled her. His jet's left hand found purchase on the red Battroid's right arm, and he twisted and tore.

The lower arm was ripped free, torn clear of its joint. Simulated sparks and arcing electricity spat from the stump. He tossed the arm aside, then twisted as she hammered at him with the gun pod. Two rounds smacked into his fighter, but again he ignored damage telltales.

He tapped the stud on the side of the throttle control, and the targeting ring came up, simulating the monocle. The head lasers rotated to engagement angle, and he fired them into the head of the red Battroid. She worked her vectored thrusters to shake him off. Grimly, he clung to the robot, kicking it whenever he got the chance, and keeping the lasers trained as close to one spot as he could.

Finally, the red Battroid managed to dislodge him, and he fell some distance before he could recover the aircraft. As he expected, Milia dove after him, gun pod blazing. He tilted and dodged, burning towards her at maximum climb, then grabbed a leg.

A quick twist, an upward kick, and the leg came off even more easily than the arm.

As before, Milia broke away again, burning at maximum thrust out of the combat zone.

Ranma firewalled his engines. A thumb flipped the monocle ring over her unit, and he held down the fire button. Shells hammered the back of her fleeing Valkyrie, and it exploded, coming apart in bits of simulated debris.

She looked up at him, astonishment clear on her face.

"Well played," he said coldly.

"And to you." Her expression settled to one as Arctic as his own. "I think it would be a good idea for us to meet elsewhere."

"A fine plan." He stood up. "Shall we say, at the park, in two hours?"

"I shall look forward to it." She stood, saluted him - an odd, across-the-chest salute that would have erased any lingering doubts he might have had - and stalked from the Arcade.

"Saotome."

He turned, stared down at Nabiki. "Yes, Major Tendo?"

"Something you ought to know about that girl--"

"She's the Zentraedi Ace who killed Roy."

Nabiki gaped at him. "How--"

"By her fighting style." Ranma turned and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I have an appointment," said Ranma. He pushed his way through the door.

"You really think she wants to meet with you to say, 'Congratulations? Good game?'"

"I promised myself that I'd kill her." He grinned. There was nothing of humour in it.

"You're not a killer, Ranma--"

"Yes, I am!" He turned and glared at her angrily. "The day Akane died, I became a killer. I've killed for vengeance. I've killed to protect others. I killed _Saffron_ for Akane's sake!" He turned and started walking again. "And now, I'll kill _her_, as I swore I'd do."

"You've never killed in cold blood."

"That's about to change."

"Saotome Ranma, listen to me for once in your life!" She stepped in front of him. "She's a defector. She's come here to find a new life. Don't take that away from her!"

"She chose the wrong place."

"Promise me you won't start the fight," pleaded Nabiki. "If she doesn't attack you, let her live."

"Why? So she can kill another pilot?"

"What would Akane think?"

Ranma scowled. "That's a low blow, Nabiki."

"What about Misa? Didn't she want to offer the Zentraedi a peaceful life?"

"Misa and I broke up. Just in case your spies haven't told you yet."

"You still want to be friends with her. You told her so." Nabiki crossed her arms. "How will she feel about you if you kill Milia in cold blood."

Ranma clenched his fists. "Fine. I won't attack her. But if she raises a hand against me, I'll tear her in half."

"That's the best I can expect?"

"Yeah." He started forwards again, and she squawked and jumped out of his way. "Now if you'll excuse me...I need to get to the park."

* * *

Misa stood as her father exited the wardroom. "Did--"

Admiral Hayase nodded. "The vote went in our favour. Eighteen votes to fourteen in favour of opening negotiations."

"Oh, thank God."

Hayase thumbed the lift control, and the hatch slid open. "Most of the 'nay' votes were from the Commodores, but Vice Admiral FitzGibbon was most hard set against negotiations. I told him of the fleet you saw--over four million ships! But he maintained that the only ones we had to worry about were the _mere_ twenty thousand or so in Earth space."

"I wish that were the case," said Misa as she took a seat in the lift. "But Supreme Commander Bodolze may well decide to mobilize against us. But I believe that the commander of the fleet we face - Commander Vwritlai - is a little more open to reason. Provided that the offer comes from a male officer."

"Sexist?" Hayase thumbed the lift controls, and the lift started moving upwards.

"Not really. The Zentraedi have reason to distrust Humans already, and more reason to distrust females. Vwritlai spoke disparagingly of making deals with females."

"Ah." He glanced over at her. "And do you feel there would be a male officer most qualified to make such an offer?"

"Yes, Sir. Captain Global."

"Not Lieutenant Saotome?"

Misa looked down, hoping it would hide her blush. "No, Sir. You might not have heard, but...Ranma and I broke up last week."

"Oh." Hayase looked abashed. "I'm sorry. I was never really against that young man...I just felt..."

"That he was too old for me?" She looked up at him. "Or was it the curse?"

"The curse sure didn't help," admitted Hayase. "But no, primarily, it was the age. And the fact that when I first met him, he was hanging around my underage daughter, who was wearing a swimsuit."

Misa chuckled. "So was _she_. And she looked a lot better in it."

"I was trying not to notice." Hayase pulled his cap from under his arm and settled it on his head. "I have something to show you."

The lift ground to a halt, and Hayase led his daughter from it, down a short corridor, and into a massive vertical tunnel. Misa's breath caught in her throat.

"Is this..."

"The Grand Cannon," he confirmed. "The most powerful gravity-wave beam we could devise, powered by the gravitational and electromagnetic field of the Earth itself."

"My God."

"This is the final card I had to lay to guarantee a win in the vote," said Hayase. "Before we open negotiations, we will fire this weapon and destroy a good portion of their fleet."

"Wait--" Misa frowned. "You're going to negotiate _after_ firing?"

"Yes," said Hayase. "The Admiralty feels that we must negotiate from a position of strength, and firing this weapon will demonstrate that strength. We will avoid hitting their command ship - an act of good faith - but as long as the enemy maintains a fleet in our system, we are subject to systematic bombardment from orbit."

"Yes, we are." Misa stepped forward. "And that is why you must not fire!"

"I'm sorry, Misa, but we've got no choice." Hayase looked upwards, towards the muzzle of the massive weapon. "Our weapons officer feels that, given optimum firing conditions, we can destroy ten thousand ships in one blast."

"Leaving another ten thousand - probably more - very angry with you!" Misa shook her head. "Admiral, I feel that I must protest this action in the strongest possible terms."

He turned towards her, startled by her sudden shift to cold military protocol. "The decision is no longer in my hands."

"It is! You said it yourself - you could declare a cease-fire, and with a vote to open peace talks already in place--"

"That vote will be nullified if I order this Cannon not to fire," he said. "The pro-war factions will gain numbers, any attempted cease-fire by myself will be overturned, and the Cannon will still be fired. No, if we are to have peace, it must be the peace of the largest guns."

"Sir, I must continue to disagree," said Misa stubbornly.

"It doesn't matter." Takeshi turned away from his daughter, unwilling to meet her eyes. "Their blood may be the same as ours, but they are still _alien_, and reaching an understanding with them may yet prove impossible. But if there's one thing we've learned about them, it is that they respect firepower, and the willingness to use it.

"The date of the firing of the Grand Cannon has already been set. They may well be willing to negotiate, but they will be _more_ willing once we wipe half their fleet from Earth's skies."

* * *

Ranma casually stood as Milia entered the park. "So. Decided to show up, did ya?"

Milia paused, and slowly drew a dagger from her belt. "I have never before been defeated on the battlefield. You not only defeated me; you _humiliated_ me. Forcing me to retreat, with a badly mauled robot."

"I meant ta _kill_ ya." Ranma shifted to a combat stance. "I'll give ya this one warning. I promised my sister that if you didn't attack me, I'd let ya be. So just put away that knife, turn around, and walk away. And nobody dies today."

"Death is preferable to defeat." She stepped forward, dropping into an attack posture. "Now, I shall prove that I am the superior warrior."

"You've been warned."

She charged, knife low. He pivoted, his left foot snapping out in a kick aimed directly at her solar plexus. But she parried, with the knife hand, then jabbed forward in a perfect _riposte_. He spun out of the way of the strike, following with a back-punch, but she ducked under it.

_Okay, she ain't unskilled._

A slash from the knife was parried, and he aimed a quick punch at her head. She dodged it by mere millimeters.

_But I've beaten people way more skilled than her._

She kicked, a high-angle strike, and he brushed it aside, then dodged the follow-up kick with the other foot. She landed lightly, and leaped towards him.

_In fact, I beat one of her people with my bare hands, against a_ Queaddlun-Rau.

He turned her leap into a throw, and she turned the throw into a handspring, dodging his kick.

_An' these alien bitches have got to learn not to mess with me._

She dropped and spun, and he leaped over the leg-sweep, jumping back and bringing his hands together. The confidence _ki_ sang in his ears, more than he'd summoned since fighting Saffron.

_'Cause Saotome Ranma don't lose!_

_"Mouko Takabisha!"_

The blast caught her dead-on, enveloping her in superheated air. She was propelled backwards, slamming into a tree, and rebounded forwards, face first into the dirt.

Ranma lowered his hands, and approached her warily. The jumpsuit that she wore was smouldering in places, and her hair was charred. He kicked her once, just hard enough to flip her over. Second-degree burns were visible on her hands and face. He knelt, wrapping the fingers of his left hand in her hair, and raised his right hand for the killing blow.

_Payback for Roy._

The girl's eyes fluttered, and opened. He was struck by the beautiful lines of her face, and the hollow look of pain in her eyes.

"Finish me," she gasped. "Death before defeat."

He raised his hand again, barely noticing that it had dropped.

"Please..."

His right hand came down...and slammed into the soil beside her dead.

"Aw, fuck."

He stood up, and reached for his communicator. Tapped the key, and said, "Medical assistance, Kingston Park. Send a burn unit."

"No." Milia shook her head, gasping at the pain as she did so. "Kill me!"

"Nabs was right." Ranma shook his head. "I can't do it."

"Coward."

He looked down at her. "Call it that if you want. But you have to live with your defeat. Just like me."


	27. Chapter TwentySix: Life and Death

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Twenty-Six: Life and Death**

**August 18th, 2010**

_Goals and Intentions Report_

_Prepared by Lieutenant Chloe Arnliefdottir, Intelligence Division_

_The Influence of Human Culture on Zentraedi_

_Much has been made of the contamination of culture that occurs when Humans and Zentraedi intermingle, by both sides of the war. However, the Zentraedi have largely stamped out even wild rumours of the effects, and Humans have had limited exposure to Zentraedi culture - or what passes for it - to date. Most of the contamination appears to be one-way at this time._

_The first, most obvious, reaction that a Zentraedi exhibits to exposure to certain elements of Human culture is nausea. They are repulsed, physically, by music or displays of affection. It is believed by members of this staff that the cultural conditioning that Zentraedi undergo is so strongly rooted in their psyche as to constitute a complex. Their reaction is typical of a Human when exposed to issues that are similarly taboo. Toilet training, for example, is a complex built into every adult human, and one that causes similar reactions to Humans when it breaks down. To properly understand the reaction that Zentraedi have towards cultural contamination, one need merely imagine oneself caught in a public place, having freshly urinated in one's pants. As puerile as the image is, it generates_ precisely _the sort of reaction in a Human as exposure to music does a Zentraedi._

_The key difference is that a Zentraedi quickly learns that exposure to music, or displays of affection, are not at all unpleasant, nor socially unacceptable. There quickly follows a period of intense experimentation - a fact that has gotten some Zentraedi aboard our ship in a fair dollop of trouble. Luckily, most of the women involved were understanding and forgiving, and to date, no Zentraedi has drawn any more punishment than a strong left hook. Add to the mix, the civilian population's willingness to dress differently from one another - a fact equally unknown among Zentraedi, outside of caste and divisional uniform differences - and one starts to wonder if the Hippie movement has returned in force. Many Zentraedi also discover that it is possible for them to_ create _music, and creative effort seems to capture their imagination more thoroughly than any other portion of Human culture. Their efforts in this area tend to be energetic, complex, daringly experimental, and atonal beyond comprehension._

_This is the state of the Zentraedi culture aboard_ Macross _at this time. However, it is still in a state of flux. A third cultural shift is expected shortly, but at this time, only a few ideas have been presented as to the path it will take. Staff psychologists believe that, in time, the Zentraedi will integrate fully with Humans, and only genetic testing will make it possible to tell the two species apart._

* * *

"Thank you for coming, Lieutenant Saotome."

Ranma nodded. "Not a problem, Doc. How can I help?"

"We've got a patient with a personal problem," said Doctor Wood. She brushed a lock of black hair back behind her ear. "I was hoping that perhaps you could help her out."

"Well, I ain't a shrink, Doc." Ranma shrugged. "I mean, if _you_ can't handle it, what good will I do?"

"The patient is herself a soldier," said Wood. "And since you were responsible for putting her in the hospital--"

"Whoa." Ranma raised a hand. "You don't mean Milia, do you?"

"Yes, that is her name. Milia Fallyna. Zentraedi, age unknown but appears mid-twenties. 'Fallyna' is apparently her Clan name; she rates high enough to--"

"Don't really care." Ranma turned and started towards the door.

"Lieutenant Saotome!" Dr. Wood followed him angrily. "This patient has attempted to commit suicide four times since being brought in here."

"Let her."

"Not on my watch!" Wood reached down to her belt and thumbed the security override; the hospital doors slid shut, and locked. Ranma cursed, and turned to face her.

"Look, that crazy chick pulled a knife on me. Don't expect sympathy from me."

"She is a warrior."

"So?"

Dr. Wood stalked up to him. "Would you turn your back on a _Human_ warrior who needed your help?"

"Yeah, if she was the one who killed my best friend."

"Major Focker was a soldier. He took a soldier's chance." Wood crossed her arms. "This woman is in _pain_. She needs a friend. She doesn't have any here; you're the closest thing she has."

"Not close enough by far."

"This isn't like you, Saotome. I've read your psych profile; a woman in pain normally brings you running to help."

"Ya might have missed this part, Doc: _She killed my best friend._ An' don't give me that crap about a soldier's chance. Milia fired into his cockpit, after his jet was already disabled an' spirallin' in. She didn't haveta do that. He was out of the fight."

Wood paused, then stepped out of his way. "Fine." She thumbed the override again, and the doors slid open. "Go, then. I guess I was deluding myself, thinking you could help."

Ranma paused, one foot already out the door to leave, and turned to face her. "Whaddaya mean?"

"Well, it's obvious that you're not up to this."

Ranma bristled.

Wood paused to select her next needle with care. "I guess there are just some challenges that you can't meet."

"Fine!" Ranma turned and started walking back into the hospital. "Where is she?"

Wood carefully kept the grin off her face. "Room seventeen."

* * *

She was in a lot better shape than last time he'd seen her.

The burns had healed with no scarring. Her eyebrows had been burned right off; they were growing back, but were still very fine. Her hair had been charred by his _ki_ blast, and an orderly had cut it, styled it in something resembling normal. It was now just above shoulder length, held back with plastic barrettes that made her look half her age--

_Except that her age is unknown,_ Ranma corrected himself. _She might be only fifteen; Nabs' report said that they're re-cloned at twelve to force maturity._

_How the hell did I let myself get suckered into this?_

Her wrists were bandaged, and handcuffed to the bed. Ranma frowned at this, and glanced over at Dr. Wood.

"How does she eat?"

"Under supervision," responded Wood. "With a plastic spoon, plastic dishes. The first day, we were allowing her restroom access - she has a remarkable amount of body modesty, incidentally. Doesn't like even a female orderly to see her undressed."

"You said, the first day she got restroom access. What happened to make you change that?"

"She shattered the mirror and cut her wrists," said Wood. "We replaced the mirror with a steel one, and she peeled it right off the wall and had another go at it. Luckily, that time, we were able to get in before she did any real damage."

"So how is she--umm..." Ranma rubbed the back of his head. "Ya know...gettin' her restroom breaks now?"

"Bedpan."

"Oh."

"Could be worse," said Wood. "With some patients, we've had to resort to a diaper."

He got the feeling that he was being manipulated again, and changed the subject. "So what exactly do you expect me to do with her?"

"Convince her that there is life after defeat," said Wood. "She feels that, having lost for the first time in even she doesn't know how long, there's no point in continuing to live."

"Well, that's just stupid," muttered Ranma. "I mean, even I've lost more than a few times." He paused. "Mind you, I always came back for the win later on."

"Perhaps that's what she needs to hear."

Ranma snorted. "She'll just try ta kill me again."

"Then perhaps you might mention some of the _other_ challenges that await her," said Wood. "Live aboard _Macross_ has got to be new and alien for her."

"I doubt that," said Ranma. "First time I saw her was 'bout a month ago, and she seemed to have already adjusted to life here. I never suspected she was an alien."

"Just try _talking_ to her," said Wood. "You never know. You might end up forgiving her."

Ranma glanced over at the Doctor. "You sure you read my psych profile?"

"Hm?"

"'Cause if you'd read it properly, you'd know that I've already forgiven her. I just don't see why I should care what she does next."

Before the Doctor could respond, Ranma thumbed the door control and walked into Milia's room.

She looked up listlessly as he entered. "Have you come to finish me off?"

"Naw." Ranma grabbed a chair, pulled it around so that the back was facing her, and sat on it. He crossed his arms across the back of the chair, and looked at her. "Why'd they give you those stupid barrettes, instead of hair pins or somethin' more...grown up?"

"With a hair pin, I could end my miserable existence." Her mouth twitched in a sardonic grin. "For some reason, the people in this building want me to suffer."

"Naw, they don't." Ranma shook his head. "That's not their way. They just don't want ya hurt. At all. For any reason."

"They deny me the ability to end my pain."

"Look, Milia." He leaned forward. "I understand wantin' to be the best. Okay? I've been the best for most of my life. But everyone loses some time, ya know? Ya just gotta take your lumps, and come back to win the second time."

"Three times you have defeated me, Saotome."

"Hm." Ranma tapped his lip with a finger. "Once when I took your _Queaddlun-Rau_ apart. Once at the video game. Once in hand to hand. That sum it up?"

"There is no need to mock me." She said it in a dull monotone.

"I ain't mockin' ya. That's three totally different types of contests, right?"

"I assume that you have a point to make?"

"You've only been defeated _once_ in any of those."

She looked away from him. "Your attempts to improve my humour are not working."

"That's because I suck at this sorta crap."

"How do your people cope with defeat?" She looked back at him. "Tell me how this insane society deals with the constant defeats that seem to plague it."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Every person that I have spoken with since arriving in this madhouse of a ship has suffered. Most have been ripped from their homes and transported across space by a misfold. They have returned to their home planet, to be told that they are not wanted. Max Jenius seemed to want...something...from me, but whatever it was, he was denied, twice. And it angered him, but he kept going. Defeat after defeat after defeat, constant disappointment...and yet you continue."

Ranma shrugged. "No choice. Life goes on, ya know?"

"Among the Zentraedi, life does _not_ go on after a defeat. If death does not come to us on the battlefield, it often comes at one's own hand, or one's Commander. A person who suffers three losses in battle is usually slain before her weakness can spread." She looked away again. "I came here to kill you. To purge my defeat, so that it would not be held against me. And you defeated me twice more. By my people's laws, I should die."

"Ya know what the strength of our society is?"

She glanced back at him. "It _has_ a strength?"

"Quite a few, actually," he chuckled. "But the biggest one is our diversity. We got people on this boat from all over our planet, with many different ways of lookin' at things. The society that I'm from--" He pointed at himself. "We don't take as well to losses as others. People have killed themselves for things that don't even really matter. Heck, in the past, I've heard of mass suicides among the _samurai_ whose Lord was slain."

"_Samurai?_"

"The warriors of my society," he explained. "But not everyone on this ship is like that. In fact, most come from North America or Europe. In those parts of the world, a person can lose absolutely everything, and will still come back for more. They got a sayin' over there: 'When you're at the bottom, the only way left to go is up.'"

"A bizarre idea," she said.

"But they got a point," said Ranma. "When you've lost everythin', you don't have nothin' left to lose. So ya might as well try somethin' new."

She looked away again, and frowned. "So what you are telling me to do is to find a new path in life, since the old path is now lost to me?"

"That's a good way of lookin' at it."

"What would you suggest I do?"

"Heck, I dunno." He scratched his head. "What do you enjoy doin'?"

"I have only ever been a warrior," she admitted. "I know no other path."

"I didn't ask you what you _can_ do," he said. "I asked you what you _want_ to do."

She frowned again. "I do not _know!_ How does one choose a path in your society?"

"Mostly by tryin' out a lot of stuff, and seein' what she likes."

"You are a warrior, but surely you know people who are not warriors." She smiled tightly. "What do they do?"

"Uh..." Ranma scratched his head again. "Actually, most of the people I know are soldiers, too. There's Feichung; she's a cook. And her neice Minmay; she's a singer. Who else...?" He grinned. "Nabiki. She's a soldier, but not an in-the-mud type like me. She's Intelligence."

"Tendo Nabiki?" Milia's grin widened, though there was still no mirth in it. "I know her well."

"Figures."

"I expect that you are charged with preventing me from harming myself." She raised her wrists, the handcuffs clanking against the bars of the hospital bed. "If you assist me in finding my new path, I shall promise not to attempt self-destruction."

"Ya hear that, Doc?" Ranma grinned. "There's another one for ya. Doc Wood. She's a psychologist."

"What does that mean?"

"Like a medic, except for the brain." Ranma tapped his temple. "Ya know...for those who don't think right."

"Among the Zentraedi, such individuals are recycled."

Ranma shuddered. "Glad I ain't a Zentraedi, then. Doc Wood was most worked up about my stress levels a few months ago."

* * *

"Captain, I've got a single blip coming in, looks like one of their destroyers." Shammy adjusted the gain on her instruments. "Yes. Definitely a destroyer, unescorted. No robot screen."

"What the hell?" Global stepped closer to the display. "What's he playing at?"

Kim turned towards the Captain, one hand on the headset at her ear. "Captain, we've got a broadcast message - in Basic - from the incoming destroyer."

"On speaker."

"_--unarmed, and without any robots except one Recon type. I repeat, we request a cease-fire and parley. We are sending one vessel bearing our emissary. It is unarmed, and without any robots--_"

Kim cut it off. "It's repeating constantly, Sir. All standard frequencies."

"'Cease-fire.'" He glanced down at Kim. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

The nearest equivelant that the Zentraedi had to underwear was apparently a body-sock, covering everything from the knees to the collarbone. Such were simply not available on Macross, and Milia had been making do with a T-shirt and boxers. But the dress that the nurses scrounged up for her - her bodysuit was a write-off - just wouldn't look right with such garments, and it fell to Dr. Wood to explain the more Human clothing.

She eventually emerged, blushing badly, wearing a light summer dress that left her arms and no small amount of leg bare. Her hair was still in the barrettes, though reinforced with hair pins. Overall, she looked like a high-school girl, on a day off.

Ranma looked her up and down. "Ya clean up pretty decent, Milia."

"I feel practically naked."

"In Human society, body modesty is somewhat more relaxed," said Dr. Wood. "Especially among members of the same gender."

"I understand this--I've witnessed it often enough--but I still do not feel entirely comfortable."

"What I find kinda bizarre is that ya look so...I dunno."

"Innocent?" supplied Wood.

"Yeah. When ya consider your background, that's just strange."

"Perhaps it would be best to ignore her background for now," said Dr. Wood. "Just treat her as any other girl on the street."

"A girl this cute will attract a lot of attention on the street."

Milia blinked. "'Cute?'"

"Attractive. Ya know...the sorta girl that most men would wanna look at."

Milia's eyes widened, and she turned back to the Doctor. "Is there nothing else that I might wear?"

"You'll have to get used to it, Milia, if you want to fit into this society." Dr. Wood smiled. "Don't worry. It's not a bad thing."

"Unless the guys get grabby," added Ranma, a look of disgust on his face. "If that happens, ya can smack 'em."

"If you'll excuse us, Milia, I need to talk with Lt. Saotome for a moment." Dr. Wood stepped out of the room, and Ranma jumped to his feet and followed her. Wood closed the door between them and Milia, and turned to Ranma.

"There was an additional reason I wanted you to help Milia."

"Knew it." But he didn't sound as bitter or as unhappy as she'd feared.

"Her entire world view has been...shattered. For the next five days or so, she is going to be in a state of flux. And _you_ are the centre of that flux. You defeated her. And you dragged her back from the dead and _forced_ her to live again. You could tell her to do _anything_, and she will."

"I guess that explains why I was able to talk her into a new life," muttered Ranma. "Wasn't any skill involved at all."

"Not a lot," said Wood, "but some. Over the next few days, though, she's going to need a chaperone. And unless I read your psych profile very wrong, you're noble enough not to take advantage of her."

"Take advantage of her how?"

Wood's eyebrows rose, and to Ranma's disgust, he found himself blushing.

"I'd never do nothin' like that!"

"I know. Like I said--" The comm terminal beeped, and she cursed under her breath and walked over to it. "Dr. Wood."

"_Is Lt. Saotome with you?_"

"Yes."

"_Please have him report to Briefing C. Also, please send Milia Fallyna with him, if she is well enough to leave the hospital. And finally, please have Mr. Saotome report in female form._"

"What the hell?" muttered Ranma.

* * *

The reason for the rather unconventional summons was immediately apparent when she entered the briefing room. At the head table, next to Captain Global, was a familiar face. Grayish skin, red hair, and somewhat bug-eyed, and a lot smaller than Ranma remembered him.

"Archivist Exedol." Ranma bowed towards the gnomish man. "A pleasure to see you again."

"More so than last time, I would wager." Exedol nodded back to her. Then turned to his companion. "Assault Leader Milia. Pleased to finally meet you."

"Minister Exedol." She saluted him, but he waved it off.

"No need for that. Save it for someone who demands it."

"As you wish."

Ranma took advantage of the brief exchange to look over the former Giant. He was rather puny, and the uniform he was wearing - a U. N. Spacy mess-dress of the smallest size - hung on him poorly. Considering the last time she'd seen a Micloned Zentraedi, she could well understand why they'd found him some clothing. The Zentraedi didn't seem to stock Miclone-scale garments.

_But why the hell does he have to wear_ our _uniform?_

"Ladies." Ranma shot Global a glare, but he ignored it. "If you could find a seat?"

"Aye, Sir." Ranma led Milia over to the left-side table and found her a seat, then grabbed one for herself. This put them across from the three former Zentraedi spies, all of whom were staring at Milia in confusion and awe. She glanced around the room, spotted Nabiki in one corner, preparing some sort of recording equipment.

She snorted. _Some things never change._

The doors opened again, and Max walked in and saluted. "Squadron Lieutenant Jenius, reporting as..." He trailed off, staring at Exedol.

"I see that I am remembered well," chuckled Exedol.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Please, take a seat."

He walked over to where Ranma and Milia were sitting. "Ladies."

Ranma rolled her eyes. Milia narrowed hers. Max ignored both of them, and pulled out a seat next to Milia.

"Commander Ichigyo reporting as ordered."

"Yo, Hikaru. They gave you your second pip?" Ranma flashed him a thumbs up. "Good job."

"Thanks, Ranma."

"Mr. Ichigyo has more than earned his promotion," said Global.

"If I may," said Exedol. "I do not remember this young man being present for the interrogation."

"He was the one that busted in an' rescued us," said Ranma. "The Valkyrie dressed like a Zentraedi."

"Ah." Exedol nodded. "Well, I believe we are missing two people still."

"I believe that I mentioned that Commander Hayase is Earthside, and Lt. Kakizaki is unfortunately no longer with us."

"Yes, and I am sorry, Commander Ichigyo, to hear of your loss."

"Thank you, Sir."

"But though the non-presence of Commander Hayase is most unfortunate, I was referring to your psychological warfare expert and the man with the energy expulsion techniques."

"Psychological warfare?" Global frowned. "I am not aware of any such."

"The woman who sings," said Exedol. He stood up and launched into a dreadfully bad rendition of Minmay's "Shao Pai Lon," right down to matching her pattern of dance. Which on anyone would look stupid, but on a four-foot-tall, gray-skinned Zentraedi, wearing U. N. Spacy mess-dress, looked grotesque.

"I think," said Ranma, "that he means Ling Minmay and Ling Kaifunn." She glanced back at Exedol. "Minister...don't give up your day job."

Chuckles ran throughout the Humans in the room. The various Zentraedi present merely looked befuddled.

"I'll have them paged," offered Nabiki.

"Excellent," said Global. "There may be a delay while they arrive. If anyone would like refreshments?"

Coffee, tea and fruit juice was offered around. Ranma noted that most of the Zentraedi seemed to favour the fruit juice. Exedol in particular was quite taken with orange juice. Only Warera seemed to prefer coffee.

For herself, Ranma chose tea, though she was disappointed that the only tea available was Orange Pekoe, a blend that she considered rough and nasty.

With beverages dispensed, Global turned back to Exedol. "Minister, you seem to be under the mistaken belief that Ling Kaifunn has some sort of energy attack. However, the 'attack' that you witnessed was not real, but the product of special effects."

"'Special effects?'"

"They were faked," offered Ranma.

"You see," continued Global, "No human actually possesses that sort of power."

Nabiki cleared her throat. "Actually, Captain, you are in the presence of one person with such power." She pointed across the room, at Ranma.

Exedol blinked. "Yes, that's right. You stated the first time that we met that you had defeated a _Queaddlun-Rau_ with your bare hands."

Ranma shrugged, ignoring the fact that Milia was now gaping at her in disbelief. "Not somethin' I can do every day."

Global frowned. "Lieutenant, do you mean to tell me that you _can_ make such attacks?"

"Didn't Misa tell ya?" Ranma shrugged again. "She saw me do it once."

"So have I," said Milia. "In fact, I was on the receiving end of it. It was not pleasant."

"And I have personally seen Lt. Saotome perform even more stunning feats," added Nabiki. "Including the creation of tornadoes and the ability to turn invisible."

"I gave up that trick," muttered Ranma. "It got me malletted. By you, Nabs."

"Don't call me that, or you'll get another."

"You also stated," said Exedol, "that there were perhaps a dozen people with your level of power."

"Ryouga, Herb, Saffron, Happousai, Cologne--assumin' that those last two are still alive." Ranma snorted. "Probably they are. Rouge. Hinako, but her hand-to-hand skills are kinda weak. Kumon. Pops." She frowned. "That's all I can remember right off the hop."

"Is it possible that this Ling Kaifunn is also among that number?"

"Naw." Ranma shook her head. "He's good, but not nearly on my level."

The doors parted again, and Minmay and Kaifunn walked in. Kaifunn looked around angrily.

"My time is very valuable," he said. "Why have you military buffoons decided to waste it?"

"Kaifunn, not now," said Minmay. She waved towards Ranma, then squealed, "Hikaru!" She ran over to him, gave him a hug.

Exedol recoiled at the display. "I do have reason to doubt I shall ever grow used to that."

Kaifunn glanced at him. "Who exactly are you?"

"Chief Archivist Exedol Folmo, Botoru Regiment, Zentraedi Mechanized Infantry." Exedol bowed towards him. "Pleased to meet you."

Kaifunn's eyes widened, until they were bugged out almost as much as the Minister's. "You--"

"Minister Exedol is here to negotiate a cease-fire," said Global.

"Oh." Kaifunn grabbed a chair and sat down next to Roli. "In that case, it's not a waste of time at all."

"Anythin' involvin' Kaifunn is a waste of time," muttered Ranma. This earned her a cuff from Minmay.

"Be nice!"

* * *

As she had half-expected, Misa had not been permitted to return to _Macross_. Instead, she found herself ordered to a sensory officer's position at the Grand Cannon.

_Not precisely a billet for a Commander,_ she thought angrily. _And my place is on my_ ship!

The architect of her discontent stepped into the compartment. Admiral Hayase walked down the rows of instruments and technicians, examining each as he passed. He paused at Misa's station, and dropped a hand on her shoulder.

"Settling in well? Getting the hang of the station?"

"Yes, Sir." She tapped a key, brought up a communication. "_Macross_ has arranged a cease-fire, independant of your orders. One of the Zentraedi leaders is aboard the ship, discussing possible terms of peace."

"So I heard."

"If they can arrange peace, we may not have to fire the Grand Cannon."

"If it holds. However, according to the reports, the cease-fire is only with the Botoru Regiment. The remainder of the Zentraedi fleet might arrive at any time. In that event, we will certainly have to use the Cannon."

Misa looked down at her terminal.

Hayase straightened up. "I'll be at the core. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything." He turned and walked toward the hatch.

Misa stood, opened her mouth...then sat back down.

_It's like he_ wants _an excuse. Nothing I say is going to change his mind._

* * *

Exedol set the phone handset back on his cradle, and looked up to Global.

"It is as we feared. Bodolze has mobilized the Main Fleet and is coming to Earth."

"So he intends to destroy our planet."

"No, Captain. He intends to destroy this ship, as well as the ships of the Botoru Regiment."

"Your own people?" Ranma stood up. "Why?"

"We have become contaminated, and the only way to purge that contamination is to destroy its source, and all infected soldiers." Exedol turned back to Global. "If we can move _Macross_ away from your planet, it may be that the Main Fleet will ignore it."

"And it may not," said Global. "Either way, we are sworn to protect our planet."

"I understand. I would do no less." Exedol hesitated. "There may be a way to defeat the Main Fleet. Commander Vwritlai expected that we would come under attack by our own forces, due to the cultural contamination. Therefore, he instructed me to inform you that he is willing to place the Botoru Regiment under your command."

Global nodded. "How many ships does the Botoru Battalion number?"

"We have twenty thousand ships," said Exedol. "However, the Fifth Battalion has chosen to absent itself from this battle, costing us five hundred ships. Of course, there is also the matter of the Quadrano forces present; they number only ten ships, with one Division of _Queaddlun-Rau_ mecha." He turned to Ranma. "Commander Lap'Lamiz will assist us, but she is not willing to place herself under Miclone command. She will, however, release her armoured units to our control. They would be under the command of your highest-ranking female officer, which I would assume is you."

"Actually, Nabs outranks me," said Ranma quickly.

"'Nabs?'"

"Lieutenant Saotome refers to me," said Nabiki. "However, Lt. Saotome is our highest-ranking female pilot."

"Thanks," she muttered.

"But she is female only part of the time," said Milia.

"It will not matter to the Quadranos," said Exedol. "All that she is required to do is to lead them in battle."

"I ain't a Zentraedi," argued Ranma. "Ya think that they're gonna follow a Human?"

"They will," said Milia, "if you are a Quadrano."

"Kinda short to be a Quadrano, ain't I?"

"We have several _Quaddlun-Rau_ with Miclone-scale cockpits."

"Wha--Whoa. Jet back!" Ranma glanced from Milia to Exedol. "I ain't checked out on no alien robots! I--"

"The Main Fleet will be five days in fold," said Exedol. "Assault Leader Milia is a qualified flight instructor, and can educate you in the use of the _Quaddlun-Rau_ combat robot."

"An excellent suggestion," said Global. "But a field brevet seems in order. Lieutenant Saotome, you are hereby breveted to Commander, and ordered to report with Assault Leader Fallyna aboard the primary carrier of the Quadranos, there to take command of the--" He glanced over at Milia.

"The First Quadrano Armoured Infantry."

"The First Quadrano Armoured Infantry. Congratulations, Commander. You've got a Division."

Ranma sat back down, considering the situation. Then smacked her forehead into the table.

"This just ain't right."

* * *

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Father." Misa nodded. "It seems that the cease-fire with the Botoru Regiment is holding, but Bodolze and the Main Fleet are coming to attack."

"Yes, I saw the report," said Hayase.

"I'd like to request a transfer back to _Macross_," she said. "My place is with my comrades."

Admiral Hayase frowned. "That ship is sailing into harm's way. The odds very strongly favour her destruction with all hands."

"But that is where I am needed," said Misa. "My comrades and I have fought side by side throughout this war."

Hayase shook his head. "No. I am sorry, but I can't send my own daughter to her death. It's too much to ask of me."

"Please, Sir. I am a soldier--"

"As am I," he snapped.

"Then transfer me back to my duty station!"

"I cannot!" He shook his head. "I might be a soldier, but I'm also a father. I'll toss you in the brig rather than send you to that flying death trap!"

She stiffened, then stepped back and saluted him. "As the Admiral pleases."

From his expression, it might as well have been a slap. She turned and walked away from him.

"Misa, please, try to understand--"

She glanced back at him.

"Coward."


	28. Chapter TwentySeven: Ragnarok

**Wednesday's Child**

**Twenty-Seven: Ragnarok**

**August 18th, 2010**

"Massive defold operation, Captain." Shammy's eyes widened. "It's way the hell off the scale. Even the rate of climb is immeasurable."

Global scowled. "Looks like they've arrived."

"Indeed," said Exedol. "Bodolze has left little to chance. It appears that he has brought about five hundred _Belnar_-class battleships. These are our flagships." He indicated several points on the display. "Knock them out, and the forces they lead will automatically retreat."

Global shook his head. "Minister, how many of your ships have we destroyed so far?"

"Six destroyers, two cruisers and a carrier," said Exedol.

"All smaller ships than these battleships," continued Global. "And yet you would have us destroy a hundred times our prior total weight in destroyed metal, and to do it in one engagement?"

"It is not what I desire, but what _you_ desire," stated Exedol. "If you wish to live, this is what you must do."

* * *

"I don't wanna do this," said Ranma. "But these guys...they're just not gonna give us any option, are they?"

"No, they will not." Milia shook her head. She still wore the plastic barettes, but had exchanged her dress for a Miclone battle uniform - one that had been tailored on _Macross_. "I had thought that you were a warrior."

"I am," snapped Ranma. "But that don't mean I wanna kill anyone. The only reason I can stomach the thought of this fight is because I'm defendin' the people of Earth. An' the Zentraedi."

"A warrior who does not wish to kill?"

"I fight to defend people," said Ranma. "It's part of our warrior code. The warrior fights only to defend the weak."

"In my culture, we fight because it is what we do," said Milia.

"No." Ranma shook her head. "You fight because ya don't _have_ a culture. Ya fight because ya don't know any better." She paused, and poked a finger at Milia. "You've lived in _Macross_. What did ya think of it?"

"It was...chaotic," she admitted. "Frightening, even. But I learned to appreciate many aspects of your culture."

"You want a reason ta fight? A _good_ reason? There it is."

"To preserve your culture?"

"Yeah."

Milia considered this, then nodded. "Yes. There is much to be learned from your people. But if Bodolze destroys you, we will never learn." She glanced at the clock. "We must prepare for the final briefing. Are you prepared, My Lady?"

"Don't call me that," grumbled Ranma. She adjusted her Zentraedi-style flight suit. "This thing feels like I'm wearin' a hair shirt."

"The material is engineered to be irritating to the skin, to force the Warrior who wears it to remain alert," said Milia. "And I must refer to you by title, as you now serve as a Zentraedi Assault Leader."

"Well, at least save it for when we're on duty," grumbled Ranma.

"My Lady..." Milia looked defiant. "I cannot. You have defeated me. Until you decide to end it, my life belongs to you. This is our way."

"It ain't my way," Ranma snapped.

"It was not you who was defeated," countered Milia.

Ranma rolled her eyes. They had had this same argument, or one much like it, every day for the last week. And it didn't seem likely that she was going to win it this time.

"I've received special sealed orders," said Ranma. "The brass has decided to kill the snake by cutting off its head. Since I've seen Bodolze face-to-face, and know what he looks like, I'm to try killin' him directly. And make sure everyone around him knows it was a Miclone who did it. Global hopes that if we take him out, the rest will surrender."

"They will not," said Milia. "But they will be more amenable to reason, and Vwritlai may be able to persuade them to leave."

* * *

"Defold operation appears to be complete," said Misa. "We're registering three million, three hundred thousand ships. Size classes range from destroyer on up."

Admiral Hayase gritted his teeth. "Looks like the timetable just advanced. Richardson, is the cannon able to fire?"

"Yes, Sir. We'll get one shot, though. After that, they'll have our position."

"We'll have to make it count," said Hayase. "Clear all maintenance areas, and start charging the gun."

"Yes, Sir."

"Incoming defold, Admiral!" Misa boggled at the reading. "Sir, it's a single point source, but it's as big as the last fold!"

* * *

"Right off the scale, Captain!" Vanessa stared at the screen in horror. "A single ship, mass roughly--oh, at a guess, fifty-seven gigatonnes!"

"Leaving little to chance, indeed," said Exedol. "That is the Fortress. The very heart of the Zentraedi empire. And that means that Gar Bodolze has come himself to deal with this threat." He glanced over at the Captain, and grinned. "I'd say that this little ship has him scared."

"Captain, screening elements of the Zentraedi fleet are beginning their burn," reported Claudia. "Coming in at two gees, and spreading out in an interdiction formation. Okay, now some cruisers are accelerating...they appear to be gun cruisers, Captain."

"Those ships are very bad news," grumbled Global. "Main guns on par with _Macross'_ cannon."

"Roughly so," said Exedol. "The Inspection Army had more powerful weapons, and faster ships--why are you not using your gravity drive?"

"We can't in this configuration," admitted Global. "We're limited to the nuclear pulse drives. Claudia. When can those ships open fire on us?"

"Closing time to reach us at their current acceleration is two hours, Captain. However, they're not building vector for us."

"They're not?"

"No, Sir." Claudia looked up from her computer terminal. "They're on course for Earth."

"_What?_"

* * *

"All units, close and attack!"

Ranma's Quadranos fell upon the screening Battle Pods mercilessly. The wrist-mounted pulse lasers were far more than powerful enough to carve them up, and even the chest-mounted impact cannon could tear them apart. The Zentraedi Pods failed to react at first, as though shocked at the sudden attack by what seemed to be friendly units.

Ranma jetted from one group to the next, unleashing death in three different directions simultaneously each time she stopped. The stunned Zentraedi finally started moving, but they were still uncoordinated, attacking largely at random.

A screen sprang open in Ranma's cockpit. "_My Lady, if you are serious about sparing lives, there is a way._"

"I'm listening."

"_The power coupling between the legs of the Regult. A strike there will cripple the robot, but leave its cockpit intact and life-support systems functional._"

"How certain are ya of this data, Milia?"

"_We have used it in the past, though only rarely._"

Ranma ducked behind a Pod and fired at the indicated point. Sure enough, the Battle Pod's engines and weapons lost power. The sensitive scanners in the _Queaddlun-Rau_ could pick out the power flow at ranges less than ten kilometers, and she noted the failure of all power systems save life support and communications. "It's a tough shot, Milia."

Milia laughed humourlessly. "_Certainly, you do not expect that the Quadranos lack marksmanship?_"

"All right, girls, listen up! Go for the disablin' shot on any Regult Battle Pods that you can. Don't get yerselves killed doin' it. But if ya can spare their lives, do it."

* * *

Max grinned. "Snakes, do you copy that transmission from Commander Saotome?"

"_Snake Seven, aye._"

"_Snake Thirteen, aye._"

"Gunsight Two, Snake Lead. We will be going for the incapacitating shot on the Battle Pods."

"_Snake Lead, Gunsight Two. Copy your intention for non-lethal attacks. Don't risk the lives of your command doing it, but if you get the chance, take it._"

"_Snake Lead, Skull One. My Squadron will also be taking the non-lethal option._"

"Roger that, Hikaru." Max grinned. "Snakes, let's go kick them in the wheels."

Quickly, word of the mercy shot spread throughout the Human pilots. The difficulty of the shot guaranteed that the pilots would take it - if for no other reason than to prove that they _could_ - and its location ensured that there would be many jokes and wisecracks made.

* * *

"Skull, Quadrano. Path to primary target is clear. We need ya to make a door for us."

"_Copy that, Quadrano Lead. We're packing reaction warheads, so get your girls clear of the impact zone._"

Contrails leaped away from the six fighters of Ichigyo's command Flight. The massive GA-31N Jackhammers were locked to INS, and streaked in heedless of electronic countermeasures. Eleven were lost to counterfire, but the remaining twenty-five bored in until they reached detonation range.

Ranma winced at the overpowering glare of the nuclear warheads as they detonated mere meters from the hull of Bodolze's flagship. Thousands of Battle Pods were scattered like leaves in a stiff wind. Most did not even attempt to recover; either their on-board computers were scrambled by the electromagnetic pulse, or their pilots were flash-fried by hard gamma radiation.

The immediate radiation blast dissipated quickly, and though ion radiation was still an issue, she had been reassured that the _Queaddlun-Rau_ could safely shield her from damage. She firewalled the engine, a double hundred Zentraedi woman behind her. They dove through the huge hull breach, and waded into battle.

The Zentraedi within the Fortress itself were on foot, some with their armoured space suits, others - now deceased - without. Ranma decided to conserve ammunition, and whirled into hand-to-hand combat. It was easier with the _Queaddlun-Rau_ than it was with a Valkyrie; her arms and legs extended into those of a Waldo suit, allowing for full translation of motion to the machine.

"_Command deck is up three levels and towards the heart of the ship,_" said Exedol in her ear.

"Got it," she said, and started towards the heart of the ship.

* * *

"As far as we can tell," said Major Kim, "the enemy forces appear to be divided, and are battling between themselves."

Hayase nodded. "Start charging up the Grand Cannon."

"Sir, if they are--"

"If they are willing to fight among themselves, great. But eventually, the survivors are going to head this way. And I doubt very much that, at hundred-to-one odds, it will be Vwritlai's forces that come out ahead."

Misa looked up from her instruments. "Sir, I'm getting a broadcast on all Zentraedi channels."

"Are they addressing us?"

"It's not coming from the Zentraedi, Sir. It's coming from _Macross_."

"Eh? On Zentraedi channels?" He walked towards her. "Put it on speakers."

She flipped a switch, barely able to suppress a grin.

"Music?" Hayase frowned. "That singer sounds familiar--"

"Ling Minmay." This time, Misa did chuckle. "Sounds like our side is using psychological warfare."

* * *

Ranma grabbed the volume knob and turned it to maximum. Aside from flooding her piloting compartment with music, it also re-broadcast it at full strength across all Zentraedi communications channels and through the external speakers. Because of this tactic, the Quadranos were using Human channels for battle orders.

The massive Fortress' hull had re-sealed itself, and her telltales indicated full atmospheric pressure outside her power suit. But the restoration of pressure meant that more Zentraedi could attack her troops. Of course, most of these Zentraedi wore at most light armour, and the assault rifles that they carried did little more than generate noise and smoke against her forces' combat robots.

Apparently, the Quadranos were following her lead, and sticking to hand-to-hand. Aside from conserving ammunition, it also allowed her - and them - to use disabling strikes when possible.

"We're within two hundred meters of the command deck," reported Ranma. "I'm gonna try to spare as many of the top brass as possible."

_"Does that include Bodolze?"_ asked Global.

"I think I got an idea for dealing with him." She reached the first security door, and punched it, full-strength. The resulting dent gave her enough purchase, and she started to drag the door open. Warning telltales flickered on, letting her know he was exceeding the suit's capabilities, but she didn't care.

Finally, some override kicked in, and the door slid open. Behind were six Zentraedi in the male version of the powered armour. She sneered, and dived into the fray.

One armoured knee slammed through the visor of the first target, and her foot found purchase on the chest-mounted cannon. She vaulted over the disabled Zentraedi, twisting in mid-air to kick through the visor of the second. A third hurriedly scrabbled to open the security door behind him, but the other three ignored her, stunned into incapacity by Minmay's music.

_I dunno what they're complainin' about. Sure, she ain't great, but she ain't_ that _bad._

She leaped through the opening security door, and found herself in the flag deck of the Fortress. On the other side of the deck, surrounded by his officers, was Bodolze. It was a short distance to reach him, and her fists and feet scattered the officers around her prey, until she was but a few meters from him. She raised the _Queaddlun-Rau's_ arm, and grinned; Bodolze was getting a close-up view of the wrong end of a pulse laser.

"Surrender, and I will spare you and your officers."

Bodolze sneered. "Zentraedi have no word for 'surrender.' It is alien to us."

"Then I challenge you. One on one. Winner takes all."

"How amusing," chuckled Bodolze. "Do you truly think we subscribe to such a primitive warrior philosophy? We are _soldiers!_" His thumb mashed a button, and hatches sprung open all over the bulkheads. Hundreds of combat robots poured onto the deck.

"Destroy her."

"Aw, fuck..."

Luckily, she had been conserving ammunition until now. She tucked her arms in close, exposing as many possible rocket tubes, and began launching.

* * *

"Message from Commander Saotome," said Nabiki.

"Go ahead."

"'Bodolze escaped, pursuing him now. Fortress now under Quadrano control.' Something else...bloody." She scowled at the screen. "This isn't my usual duty station, Captain. I'm sorry."

"No apologies needed, Major."

"Okay, got the code-groups translated...'Small craft inoperative, Bodolze cannot escape the Fortress.'" Nabiki leaned back into her chair and glanced upward at the Captain. "Sounds like the first part of the operation was successful, Skipper."

"Good news," said Global. "Signal Vwritlai that it's his turn."

* * *

"_This is Fleet Commander Vwritlai Kridanik to all Zentraedi Commanders._" The tall alien's voice rang out in deep baritone. Ranma's translator passed its feed directly into her ear, even managing to match the Zentraedi's deep, booming voice. "_Bodolze has been defeated by a Miclone female. He has been driven from his command post. I am now assuming command of the Grand Fleet."_

"_Kridanik, you are a traitor!_" Bodolze's face appeared on the comm net. "_I am undefeated, still alive, and still in command of the Fortress."_

Ranma decided to speak up. "Actually, you're on the run, an' runnin' outta time before I find your sorry ass. Assault Leader Fallyna holds command of the Fortress, an' I killed off your command staff." Ranma flipped her visual pickup to active. "Recognize me, asshole? Ya captured me an' two of my pilots, an' interrogated me right in this very Fortress, remember?"

Bodolze stared at her in shocked silence. Ranma smirked.

"I'm back."

"_Indeed..._" Bodolze's hand caressed his face, following the long scar that Ichigyo had burned into his face. "_It was one of your companions who gave me this, when you escaped._"

She stepped around the corner, and spotted him at the communications center. He was just a bit focused on the screen, and her arrival went unnoticed until her battle computer locked him up. It gave out a cheerful ping, and Bodolze heard it through the commo link.

He turned, drawing a pistol, and Ranma thumbed the missile stud. Sixteen missiles howled downrange. Bodolze shot two down, then tried to dive out of the way of the rest.

He did not make it. Fragments from the missile warheads peppered his body, and he collapsed to the ground.

Ranma stomped towards his crippled form. "The big nasty bad guy." She snorted, and raised the arm of the combat robot.

Bodolze rolled over onto his back, and looked up at her. "Missiles against an unarmoured foe. So much for your warrior philosophy, Miclone."

"I gave ya the chance. Ya turned it down."

"So I did." He brought up the laser pistol.

Ranma sighed, and thumbed the trigger. The arm-mounted pulse laser fired, and Bodolze fell back again, and did not move.

"_Soldiers of the Zentraedi, please attend carefully._"

"Huh?" Ranma turned towards the commo board. The speaker was an officer that Ranma had never before seen. His face held an arrogant sneer that put her in mind of a certain kendoist from her past. And it seemed he was taking exception to Vwritlai's speech. It took her a few seconds to isolate the frequency showing on the screen, and then she had audio and visual right in her cockpit.

"_Hear what Vwritlai has said. He has brokered deals with the females, and had contact with the enemy. In fact, he has made pacts with Miclone enemies, and now asks us to disobey our orders and embrace their cultural contamination!_"

"_You speak without knowledge that I have gained from Bodolze himself, Kamjin. And from Exedol._" Vwritlai was back on the channel as well. "_At one time, we had a culture much like theirs. It is part of the Zentraedi heritage, and we can have it again._"

"_That officer is Kranshevra Kamjin._" Exedol's voice was coming through her earbug, so she knew it wasn't going out over the general freq. "_He is known for building a personality cult throughout the Fifth Botoru Battalion, and many of his clan follow him unquestionably._"

"He seems familiar," mused Ranma. "Don't think I ever actually spoke with him."

"_He has been responsible for many of the unauthorized attacks on_ Macross_, and usually leads his troops personally into battle. He operates a custom_ Glaug _combat robot. Red and silver colours._"

Ranma nodded. "So I've fought him before. Has a tendency to kill his own troops, right?"

"_Indeed,_" said Exedol. "_In fact, his troops tend to refer to him as_ Khyron_, a word which translates roughly as 'ally-killer'._"

"Or 'backstabber?'" Ranma grinned. "Gimme a vector to his flagship, and I'll give him what I gave Bodolze."

"_I don't think you will have the chance._"

"Eh?" She turned her attention back to the battle of words raging across the airwaves.

"_...call upon all Zentraedi still loyal to Bodolze. We shall purify the world of the Miclones with fire, wipe the contamination of their_ culture _from the heavens, and remain in accordance to the intentions of the Protoculture._" His face twisted into an ugly sneer. "_The_ true _Zentraedi heritage is battle. And the Kranshevra Clan shall lead our people to glory!_"

* * *

"_Commander Vwritlai to_ Macross."

"Commander Vrwitlai, this is Gunsight Two," replied Claudia. "What is the status of your fleet?"

"_I am afraid that I must report that success is incomplete. Approximately two-thirds of the Fleet has chosen to disregard signals from my flagship."_

"Signal from Azonia, Captain." Vanessa glanced over from her own console. "She reports that the Quadrano Battalion ships that arrived with Bodolze are answering her signals."

"Good," said Global. "At least we don't have to worry about them."

"_You may find,_" said Vwritlai, "_that they will be of little assistance to you. I doubt that they can be persuaded to take up arms against fellow Zentraedi._"

"At least _we_ won't have to fight them. What are the ships of your fleet doing?"

* * *

"_The ships of the Renegade forces are firing into Loyalist ships,_" reported Milia. "_The Loyalists are still badly outnumbered; most of them are breaking off the engagement. The Renegade fleet will reach Earth orbit in fifteen minutes._"

Ranma pounded a fist on her console. "Can _Macross_ head them off?"

"_Our intent has been to capture_ Macross_, not to destroy her; rest assured, Kamjin's fleet can easily overcome one Inspection Army Destroyer._"

"What do we have that can stop them?"

"_Nothing._" Her voice grew hollow. "_I am sorry, My Lady, but I feel that we have failed you. Nothing short of the Fortress itself could stop that fleet._"

"The Fortress--" Ranma grinned. "Great idea. How many of this ship's crew are willin' to take our orders?"

"_You jest!_"

"Just answer the damned question!"

Milia visibly shook herself on the screen. "_Various Renegade groups had to be rooted out, but when faced with Quadranos, most of the crew surrendered. We have enough to fight this ship. But we cannot possibly catch that fleet!_"

"Why not?"

"_The Fortress was not designed to be very mobile. It's acceleration is insufficient to match that of the Renegade fleet._"

"There's gotta be a way!" She scowled. "There's always a way. Find it. Pull the win from the jaws of defeat."

"_My Lady--_"

Ranma grinned. "Yeah. There's a way. It's been starin' me in the face." Her Quadrano's fingers traced the console at which she stood. "Milia, get over here. I'm gonna need your help."

* * *

"Captain!" Kim turned to face him. "Message from Elmendorf Air Force Base: Hold position, we are opening fire."

"_What?_" Global turned back to the dome, and saw a pillar of light springing up from the planet's surface. It struck directly through a gun cruiser, smashing a hole directly through it along its longest axis. The beam traversed across the fleet, and the gravitational wake tore ship after ship apart.

Finally, it faded, leaving a million burning wrecks in its wake.

"Shammy--"

"One million, two hundred twenty thousand ships destroyed, Captain. Give or take a few." Shammy looked shaken. "Only twenty-three of them were _Belnar_-class ships. Mostly light units, gun cruisers and such." She examined her instruments again. "Twenty minutes until Vwritlai's forces arrive. But the Renegade fleet is still manoeuvering."

Half a million gun cruisers spread out in a massive enveloping manoeuvre. A much smaller contingent - perhaps ten thousand destroyers - altered course, bringing themselves towards the northern hemisphere. As one, every ship in orbit turned to face the planet, and their massive gravitational-beam cannons split open like the jaws of a prehistoric beast.

Then tongues of radiant energy stabbed out, hammering the Earth with radioactive fire.

Global stared out through the great transparent dome, looking down at the Earth.

"'There came hail and fire, mixed with blood, and they were hurled to Earth; and the Earth was burned.'"

He turned slowly from the carnage before them, to face his bridge crew.

"Shammy. Range to the Renegade flagship?"

"Eleven million kilometers, Sir." Her voice was quiet.

"Thank you. Vanessa, plot us a zero/zero burn directly to the Renegade flagship. Claudia, I want the main gun charged and ready to fire."

"Captain!" Shammy whirled to face Global. "Incoming defold operation!"

"What the hell _else_ is coming?"

"Single point source, fifty-seven--It's the Fortress!"

* * *

"_Defold operation complete._"

Ranma nodded. "Good. Open fire."

The cannons of the Fortress opened up on the Renegade fleet. And compared to the massive weapons Ranma's commandeered vessel mounted, the Zentraedi spinal-mounted cannons were mere popguns. Blasts of energy kilometers wide slashed through _Belnar_-class ships like they were hot butter. Missiles larger than some entire ships detonated, scattering destroyers and cruisers like sakura petals.

"_My Lady, folding this close to a planetary mass has caused severe gravitic strain to the Fortress' hull. Structural integrity is likely to fail._"

"We don't need to last much longer," growled Ranma.

"_I'm showing hundreds of hits, My Lady. Structural integrity weakening, and we've lost two hundred guns. Powerplant damage is reducing output, but we've lost so many guns it barely matters. Massive casualties on decks three hundred through three fifty._"

"Can't be helped." Ranma gritted her teeth. "Keep all guns firin' as long as we can."

The Fortress bucked under her robot's feet, and her head bounced off the instrument panel in her cockpit.

"_Primary battle computer is destroyed, My Lady. All weapons are in local control only. And the mains are beginning to fail._"

"How many Renegade ships are left?"

_Perhaps fifty thousand. And_ Macross _has opened fire._"

"Have you broken into the Renegade Tac Net?"

"_Yes, and Ling Minmay's song is being sent into it. The Renegades seem to be destabilized._"

The ship bucked again, and alert klaxons howled.

"_The mains are off-line. We've got reserve power only._"

Ranma sighed. "Okay. Order all crew to abandon ship. I want you to plot another space fold."

"_The Fortress will not survive another--_"

"I don't expect it to," snapped Ranma. "But if somethin' this size crashes into Earth, it will make what the Renegade fleet did look like a love-tap!"

"_Plotting a fold into the system primary,_" said Milia. "_Might I suggest that you abandon the usual Miclone tradition, and_ not _go down with the ship?"_

"Didn't plan on it," said Ranma with a grin.

* * *

The massive cannon fell silent. Escape pods, small craft and combat robots scattered from the Fortress like fleas leaving a dying wolf.

Perhaps sensing victory, several of the Renegade fleet moved in closer, ignoring the escaping crew. This proved to be an unfortunate, and final, mistake. The fold sphere enveloped eighty-seven ships, including one _Belnar_ and two _Nupetiet-Vernitsz_, and dragged them off with the Fortress.

Ranma's _Queaddlun-Rau_ touched down on _Macross'_ gravity deck, in the company of Milia's modified robot, and both were lowered into the hangar deck. Barely had the atmosphere been restored in the liftlock when gangs of soldiers, including half the Jolly Rogers, all but dragged them from their cockpits.

"Way to pull our asses out of it, Ma'am!" Hikaru was beaming at her. "Between you and Elmendorf, we cut them apart!"

"Hikaru, they opened up on Elmendorf Air Force Base." Ranma's face was grim. "Misa was down there. I need--"

"Hold on." Hikaru raised a hand. "We've already got it covered. You can't ride that powered armour into atmosphere, and can't get back out again. Plus, there's no room for a second person in a...whatever you call it."

"I can take a shuttle--"

"There's still combatants out there," pointed out Hikaru. "Only one machine could get through it all and come back, right?"

Ranma nodded slowly. "Only one."

* * *

She stood at the edge of the massive crater that had been Elmendorf, and wept.

The sound of fusion turbofans grew louder, and she turned to see a Valkyrie dropping down about half a kilometer away. Even from this distance, she could see the massive thruster packs of the Space Augmentation Combat System, and her heart leaped in her chest. She ran towards it, one shoe getting kicked off and left behind, but she didn't care.

The fighter nosed down, and the cockpit popped open. The pilot leaped clear, moving with the feline grace she knew so well.

"Ranma!"

She pulled off the helmet, and smiled. "Am I glad to see you!"

She threw herself around the smaller woman. "Ranma, I'm sorry. You were right."

"Eh?"

"I shouldn't have gotten mad at you, you weren't doing anything wrong, I was..." She stopped, sniffed. "I'm sorry. I drove you away, my best friend. I shouldn't have been so _stupid_, so stubborn, I should have..." She sniffed again.

"Ah...Misa...need air."

"Sorry." She let her go, and took a step back. "For everything, I'm sorry."

"I understand, Misa." She smiled again. "Trust me, I do. It was the same song, different verse. I was doin' the same things I always did."

"I...I hope maybe we can..." Misa hesitated. "Like you said. We can still be friends?"

"We've been friends too long not to keep on with it," said Ranma.

"I'm...I'm glad," she said.

Ranma bit her lip, then seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. "Misa, if you wanna try pickin' up where we--"

Misa shook her head vehemently. "No! I don't want to risk losing you entirely."

Ranma nodded. "Okay. Good. I mean, I'm glad you still wanna be friends, an' all."

Misa chuckled. "As skilled as ever in the social arena, I see."

"'Fraid so." She turned, and indicated the crater. "_Macross_ will be touchin' down soon. Global's gonna land in the crater, an' turn it into a memorial for your father."

"But he--"

"He did what he thought was right, an' he probably was pivotal in the fight," said Ranma. "No matter how many nasty things he did on a personal level - an' let's face it, he wasn't really that nasty personally - he fought to save his planet."

"I was so angry with him - for ignoring Global, for leaving the civilians trapped in the ship, for refusing to let me go back..." Misa kicked at the ground, and winced. "But even so, when he died...I wasn't even there for him, and it's tearing me up. I want to hate him, but..."

"But he was your father," said Ranma. "No matter what he did, he was still the man you called Daddy." She sighed. "I know a bit about that. An' almost everything he did that you objected to, was because he was still tryin' ta protect ya, even though he shoulda known ya didn't need it anymore."

Misa sighed. "So what do we do now?"

Ranma glanced towards the Valkyrie. "This place is gonna be irradiated pretty badly when _Macross_ comes in. We're gonna climb into my jet, and fly back."

"And after that?" She indicated the crater. "The war is over. I still don't know if we won--"

"We did."

"--But we've got nothing left to fight with any more."

"True," allowed Ranma. "Most of the cities are gone. The Netherlands are underwater again, and so is much of Japan - I still haven't heard if Mom is okay. We've got a whole world to rebuild."

Misa nodded. "Then we'd better get started."

* * *

**OMAKE**

He had no idea where he was.

Not that that was unusual.

Ryouga was certain that he shouldn't have tried to stow away on that ship. One look at it should have warned him that it was a _space_ ship, not a more conventional ocean-going vessel. But stow away he had, and then spent the next three weeks hiding like a rat from the giants - honest to Kami _giants_ - until the ship landed.

But the world they'd landed on hadn't been Earth, and he'd spent who knows how long wandering through godforsaken jungles, running from or beating up nasty things with too many legs and teeth.

Okay, that last part wasn't that unusual either.

Finding another spaceship, even one populated by the damn giants, seemed a godsend, and he'd stowed away again. The ship had crashed, but he'd survived. And now he was wandering along the edge of the ocean, headed towards a city.

There had been one hell of a war here, from the looks of it. The landscape was blasted and dead. He'd passed the remains of several vehicles - almost impossible to tell what they looked like originally, but human-scale compartments and seats existed in them, so the people here must at least be his size.

He rounded a cliff, and stopped dead.

There before him was a massive head. Green, corroded copper, long spikes on the tiara, and lying nearby, a copper torch.

Earth.

A blasted, dead Earth.

He sank to his knees. "You fools..." He stared up at the sky. "You destroyed it all!

"Saotome Ranma, this is all your fault!"


	29. Chapter TwentyEight: Reconstruction

**Wednesday's Child**

**Twenty-Eight: Reconstruction**

**February 1st, 2012**

Colonel Tendo Nabiki pushed her chair back from her desk and sighed.

_It's times like this that I really think that the world is populated with two kinds of people. Idiots...and me._

Stupidity was cropping up all over the world, it seemed. And there weren't really enough people left to allow this sort of idiocy. Kamjin's bombardment of Earth had left between five hundred thousand and one million Humans worldwide - figures were vague because transportation and computing power had become somewhat scarce - plus about twice that many Zentraedi. The largest known concentration of Humans was at Macross City, at the former site of Elmendorf Air Force Base.

The environmental aftereffects of the Holocaust had yet to be fully experienced; it had been two years since the end of the war, well into Alaska's winter, and yet the weather outside was about like that of an early spring day in her native Japan. Despite only receiving a half-hour of direct sunlight, perhaps three hours of over-the-horizon illumination from the sun. And it didn't get much colder at night. It spelled global warming, though Nabiki would have bet on a minor ice age after the global devastation the planet had endured.

And in the wake of this drastically reduced population and environmental concerns, what were the good people of Macross City most worked up over?

Politics.

There was a knock at the door, and she looked up in irritation. Well, further irritation.

"Come."

No powered pocket doors anymore; this one was simple wood, with an old-fashioned doorknob. Misa stepped through and closed it behind her. Nabiki grinned; she and Misa had become quite close in the last year.

"Well, if it isn't my second favourite Colonel."

Misa raised an eyebrow. "And your favourite is?"

"Me, of course." Nabiki indicated a chair. "Grab a seat."

"Thanks." Misa collapsed into the chair. "Anything new from the recon teams?"

"Well, we had one minor thing," she said. "Though I'd page you if they had anything _really_ pressing."

"I know that," snapped Misa. Then winced, and rubbed her forehead. "Sorry. Those boneheads in the Town Council—"

"I was just pondering that, actually," said Nabiki. "Kirika tells me that the Opposition's latest move is to try for a vote of No Confidence in Admiral Global." She snorted. "Which is just stupid."

"I know," said Misa. "Global's the only one who's keeping things together. To get rid of him would destabilize the alliance with the Zentraedi, alienate the U. N. Spacy relief forces, and cause a power vacuum that this society wouldn't long survive."

"Actually, I was thinking along somewhat different lines," admitted Nabiki. "Such as the fact that under United Nations Articles, Global's got absolute authority, as he's the highest-ranking member of the U. N. that's still alive. Not to mention, he's got all the guns."

"Peace through superior firepower?" Misa snorted. "He'd never turn to such tactics."

"Not willingly, no."

Misa paused. "Do you mean to say that he might be _forced_ to use military resources to control the political situation?"

"Oh, very easily," said Nabiki. "However, I've got my girls working behind the scenes to prevent it from happening. I'd be lying if I said I could _guarantee_ it wouldn't happen, though." She sighed. "But back to your original question. The recon flights. Commander Jenius reported finding a settlement near what used to be Nelson that survived the bombardment. Maybe five hundred people. However, they didn't seem terribly interested in signing up with us." Her lips twiched in false mirth. "I believe that their mayor said, 'You guys brought this on yourselves.'"

"Great."

"Max also noticed that there were several full-sized Zentraedi living in the community. Kind of hard to keep something like that under wraps." Nabiki paused. "I doubt that the community poses any kind of security threat, but having non-Micloned Zentraedi wandering around a settlement that has no protection from the U. N. Spacy makes me a bit..."

"We can't be everywhere," objected Misa. "And if they rejected any help from us—"

"Didn't say that," said Nabiki,then shrugged. "Okay, maybe I was less than clear. They don't want to join the U. N. However, they offered to trade, offering food—which we badly need—in exchange for medical supplies and a water treatment system." She chewed her lip. "They also insisted on maintaining 'neutrality and independance', their words."

"Joy."

Nabiki raised an eyebrow at her choice of word, but declined to comment. "At any rate, the end result is that we've got a reasonably peaceful neighbour, who's willing to trade, but isn't willing to have armoured units watching over them. They don't want to return to the U. N., and I can't say as I blame them."

* * *

Milia completed the _kata_, dropping back into the starting position. Her breathing was a bit heavy, and she could feel her pulse at fifteen percent higher than normal.

_Good. But something is...wrong._

The _kata_ had not been as seamless as when Ranma had done it. Granted, he'd been doing this since he could walk, but she had quite a bit of combat experience as well. Probably as much as him, though she was uncertain of the conversion of time rates.

But she was experienced enough to know that she was doing this _kata_ incorrectly.

_Maybe it's because it wasn't designed with me in mind..._ She swept a bang absentmindedly out of her eyes, scowling as she realized that one of her barettes had come loose. Then paused, and realized what was wrong.

Her hair was loose. It had regrown to just past shoulder length, but Ranma always wore his bound. She pulled an elastic from her pocket, and pulled her hair back into a rough ponytail. Then paused, and quickly braided it, putting the elastic at the end to hold the pigtail in place.

She snapped back into the _kata_, and this time, it worked beautifully. The green silk shirt snapped with each punch, the black silk pants crackled with each kick. She came to the end again, a feeling of satisfaction rising up in her, and stood upright, her hands coming to rest on her hips.

_Yes. That time, it was right._

There was a gasp from the door, and Milia turned, her hands instinctively coming back up to a ready position.

Hayase Misa stood there, eyes wide and fists balled at her side. Milia relaxed her guard somewhat; the taller woman was not at the same level as she was for physical combat skills, but she wore her _gi_, and Master Saotome had drilled it into her over and over that even in the _dojo_, there would be no warning before an attack. And he had trained this Human warrior for longer than he had herself.

They held the scene for long moments, then Hayase cleared her throat.

"Your form is very good. On par with _his_, even."

"Thank you." Milia relaxed her guard. "It took me some effort to master this _kata_."

"Do you find that dressing like him, even down to the hairstyle, helps?"

Milia frowned. The other woman's body language was radiating tension and bitterness, and she had no idea why. What cause had she given Misa to be angry with her?

"Master Saotome developed this _kata_ while wearing clothing similar to this, and while wearing her hair bound. It became apparent to me that I could not perform it properly without dressing, and binding my hair, in the same manner."

This seemed to calm Misa down, even producing a wry chuckle. "Makes sense, I guess."

"I assume that you are here for training?"

Misa nodded. "Just like I do every day. Just like you do."

"Then Master Saotome has failed to contact you." Milia paused to pick up a water bottle. "Skull Leader Ichigyo has requested his assistance with matters related to the squadron, and he will be unable to meet with us today." She took a long pull from the bottle.

"I forgot to check my messages." Misa sighed. "Well, missing one day of training isn't going to turn me into a complete wimp."

Milia set down the bottle. "If you wish, we can spar."

Misa considered this, then nodded. "Very well."

* * *

"Excuse me. Commander Saotome?"

Ranma looked up from the clipboard. "Yeah? Hey, Nabs."

"Don't call me that." Nabiki crossed her arms, the file folder in her right hand slipping under her left arm. "How close are you to finishing this up?"

"Dunno." Ranma glanced over at Ichigyo. "Hikaru? You got anything else ya wanna say before I sign this off?"

"No," admitted Ichigyo. "I think we've covered everything we need to do."

"Okay." Ranma scrawled his signature at the bottom of the page, then pushed it back to his superior. "I think we should set up an overflight of Yellowknife. See if there's anyone on the ground there."

"No problem." Ichigyo nodded. "Bravo needs the stick time."

"And what are the chances we can get someone out as far as Toronto?"

Ichigyo bit his lip. "Kind of slim. That's well outside a Valkyrie's range, even with FAST packs and extra gas tanks. We could probably do it with tanker support, but—"

Nabiki raised a hand. "Excuse me. Can't the Valkyrie run on just air for its reaction mass?"

Ichigyo snorted. "Sure, if you want to take three times as long to get there. The Valkyrie can't go supersonic on air alone; it needs _something_ for proper reaction mass."

Ranma frowned. "What about a fuel depot? We can land a Valkyrie just about anywhere; send a couple of Glamours in with extra fuel and a few Destroids for security."

"And then we're talking about a lot of metal for one hop," argued Ichigyo.

"It might be worth it," said Ranma. "I'll check out the numbers, get back to you on that."

"Okay." Ichigyo jotted a note down on his palmtop, then slipped it into his pocket. "Anything else?"

"Naw, I think that'll do for now, boss."

Ichigyo nodded, stood, and left the ready room. Ranma watched until he was out of sight, then turned to Nabiki. "So what's up?"

"I was talking to your ex about the town your pilots turned up," said Nabiki.

"Oh." Ranma rolled his eyes. "Idiots, those guys are. They ain't got no defenses to speak of, an' we've gotten reports of rogue Zentraedi wanderin' that area."

"They didn't feel the need to sign on with us. I'm guessing that they don't feel they need our protection."

"Because they got a couple of big guys in there," said Ranma.

"And if a rogue turns up with even just a Battle Pod," pointed out Nabiki, "those Zentraedi will be sitting ducks."

Ranma shrugged. "They've made their decision. We should respect that, even if we think they're idiots."

"While we're on the subject of being an idiot." Nabiki grinned. "I was looking through your records yesterday."

"Why do I have the feeling I'm going to regret asking why?"

"Are you familiar with project THUNDERBIRD?"

"Yeah." He nodded warily. "Back in 0h-Five, when I was posted to South Ataria. It was part of PAINTED GLOVE. The part that got dropped."

"Well, it seems that the work wasn't completely abandoned." Nabiki dropped the file folder on the desk in front of him. "They dusted it off about a year before the Holocaust, and completely re-tooled it."

Ranma raised an eyebrow. "I was supposed to fly test-pilot on THUNDERBIRD, but it never materialized, and I got posted to FIREBIRD instead." He picked up the file folder, and flipped it open. "Wonder how far they got..."

"Quite some distance," said Nabiki. "Global ordered the project restarted about eight months ago. The Valkyries are starting to show their age."

"Dual high-power LASER cannon, one each per wing...hard point for GU-11 or GU-12 cannon...Internal weapons bays hold six GA-23 or two GA-31 weapons each side, plus six conformal GA-23 mountings." He flipped past the specifications sheet, and examined the concept art. "Looks like a piece of crap, but then, the Valkyrie ain't exactly a glamour jet either."

"They finished the wind-tunnel testing two weeks ago, and are currently working on the prototype," said Nabiki. "And they want you to test-pilot the bird."

Ranma glanced up. "Really?"

"Well..._I_ want you to test-pilot it."

"Why's that?"

"Getting back to your records. You realize, don't you, that you're never going to advance beyond command of a Flight, correct?"

"I was kinda gettin' that picture," he admitted. "The brass seems to think I've topped out here."

"If it weren't for the pressure of a shooting war, you'd never have made it this far." Nabiki tapped the folder. "That's why you were selected for PAINTED GLOVE. You were too good an aviator to waste, but not a good enough soldier to advance."

Ranma nodded warily.

"But a test pilot has to think outside the box, has to live at the edge of the envelope...just like you always have." Nabiki smirked. "Plus, Tennasaono hasn't been able to get a foot in on this project yet."

"Oho!" Ranma grinned. "Now I see. You want information on the project that you can't get!"

"_Any_way, if you want in, I'll submit your name to the selection board—through a cut-out, of course—with enthusiastic recommendation. Do you want the job?"

"Sure." Ranma shrugged. "But I'm doin' it for the flyin', not to help you out."

"Fine." Nabiki rolled her eyes. "Have you got the most recent recon data?"

"Yeah, around here somewhere." Ranma dug through the stack of papers on the table, extracted a folder. "I got an electronic copy somewhere, too. I can eMail it to ya."

"No, bring that along," said Nabiki. "I want a chance to go over it with you."

* * *

Misa winced as she placed the ice pack against her cheek. Milia had pulled the punch, but she had been moving the wrong direction for the other woman to _completely_ pull it, and she'd gotten tagged a bit harder than Milia had intended.

"Luckily, the skin was not broken," offered Milia. "You shouldn't suffer too much bruising, either."

"It still doesn't feel very good," quipped Misa.

"The orbital ridge is sensitive to impact." Milia sat down on the bench beside her. Misa noted the way she was favouring her left side; though Milia had out-scored her during the sparring match, she hadn't escaped unscathed.

She found herself wishing she'd hurt Milia more severely, then castigated herself severely for the thought.

_Ranma and I broke up, two years ago now! And he's not seeing anyone else—certainly wouldn't be seeing Milia. Hell, he's terribly uncomfortable around her._

"Well, I must thank you for the workout." Even in the midst of her bitterness, Misa was willing to be polite. Especially if Milia had done nothing to earn her ire, save to be herself. "Even Ranma won't go all-out against me."

"I was not going all-out," objected Milia.

"Yeah, but unlike him, you had to work for the win." Misa chuckled. "Pretty soon, you'll be as good as he is."

Milia shook her head. "No. I doubt highly that I will ever be a suitable match for Ranma, though I shall never cease trying."

Misa bristled, then forced herself to relax. _She's talking about combat skill!_

"I think you're selling yourself short," she said. "I mean, he's had very intense training, but even you can't say how long you've been fighting."

Milia raised an eyebrow, glanced over at her. "It is true that I am somewhat older than a Human of my appearance might be. I am starting to understand Earth measurements of time, as they relate to Zentraedi measures. I am probably closer to his age than to yours."

Again, Misa had to bite back a sharp reply.

Milia stretched. "I must thank you as well. Sparring is always more entertaining when one has an opponent. But I must report for my classes now."

"Classes?" Misa frowned. "You're going back to school?"

Milia smirked. "Considering what the Zentraedi use in place of an educational system, I do not think that 'back' is the proper term."

* * *

"VC-134, this is Skull Thirteen." Ranma frowned at his sensory display, hoped that he was reading it wrong. "I'm showing three active fusion sources ahead, along with the occasional field-effect that looks like neutral particle beam weaponry. My flight will close to investigate. Recommend you fall back."

"_Noted, Thirteen._" The VC-33 transport pilot affected a laconic drawl—they all did—that nearly concealed the wariness that he must be feeling.

"Skull Flight, throttles to max." Ranma advanced his throttles to maximum. He glanced left and right, noted that the other two pilots were matching his acceleration. They quickly left Transport Flight VC-134 behind. Ranma switched his AWG-33 fire control system to tracking mode, and quickly picked up three active combat robots. The computer needed perhaps half a second to identify all three as standard Regult Battle Pods.

"_Skull Thirteen, Skull Fourteen. I've got three Battle Pods wreaking havoc up ahead._"

"Yeah, I got 'em." Ranma frowned; how best to approach this? "Shift to GERWALK, decrease altitude to five meters. We'll come in under their radar."

"_Roger._"

The three Valkyries shifted, and dropped down to the dry lake-bed beneath them. At such low altitudes, the blast of the engines formed the ground-effect cushion that gave the GERWALK-mode Valkyrie formidable terrain-hugging advantages.

_Not that there's a heck of a lot of terrain to hug._

The closest of the Battle Pods was twenty degrees off his course. Almost without conscious thought, Ranma's thumb tapped the Jettison button, and the GU-11 popped free from its centerline station. His Valkyrie's right hand snagged the gun, and he jerked the trigger once. The gun pod coughed out a twenty-round burst, tearing the leg off the Battle Pod at the knee.

He leaned into the left rudder paddle, and his Valkyrie slid to the left. The reconfigured throttle was jerked to the side, raising the GERWALK's metal arm straight out, and he clotheslined the second Pod across the legs.

His left hand slapped the reconfiguration controls, and the Valkyrie began to fold, still not losing any speed. A quick jerk upward on the right paddle, and the leg rose, still blasting away at full power. He pulled back hard, and as the Valkyrie completed its reconfiguration, the right foot slammed into the back of the third Pod, cutting its power link to the reactor and dropping it as though its strings had been cut.

The Valkyrie touched down, and Ranma thumbed his mike. "All three pods are down. Keep an eye on 'em."

"_Roger._"

He walked the robot over to the nearest fallen Pod, and slung the cannon. Massive steel hands ripped the entry hatch open, and the Zentraedi within opened fire with his sidearm.

It was a valiant effort, but largely futile. Ranma grabbed the pistol before it could do much more than wreck his paint job, and crushed it like a beer can. He flipped on the external speakers.

"Get out of the Pod, buddy."

* * *

Misa stirred her tea idly with one finger, barely registering the scalding heat. "We tried it once, and it didn't work."

Claudia snorted. "Oh, don't be stupid. And get your finger out of your tea before you do some permanent damage!"

Misa glanced down in distracted surprise. "Ow." She pulled her finger from the tea and sucked on it absently.

"Both of you were under a lot of stress," said Claudia. "You because you were XO, and him because he was flying combat constantly. Plus you, my dear—" She pointed accusingly at Misa. "—have a tendency to fly off the handle at any little thing."

"We had...underlying difficulties, too," pointed out Misa. "I was expecting too much from him, given his past...problems. And I mistook his concern for me for him trying to control me. And I wasn't able to see that what we had was pretty good...better than I deserved."

"You know what I see going on here?" Claudia shook her head in disgust. "I see you making up excuses. Has he told you he doesn't want to get back together with you?"

"No, but—"

"Have you even _talked_ to him?" Claudia waited a few seconds, then snorted. "I thought not."

"He said that we were still friends, and that we should stay that way," mumbled Misa.

"When did he say that?"

"The day we broke up."

Claudia rolled her eyes. "Listen, Misa. I've had just a bit more experience dating jet jockeys than you. And I've learned to spot important cues. Here's a big one: Have you seen Ranma out and about with any other woman?"

"He—"

"I know," said Claudia. "Private person, doesn't want to be chased by women, yadda yadda...but the simple fact is that jet jockeys gravitate towards women. And vice versa."

"But I've never seen other women—"

"Minmay," interrupted Claudia.

"_Minmay?_" laughed Misa. She shook her head. "She's got a bad case of hero worship, but—"

"Hero worship doesn't quite cover it," said Claudia. "You've forgotten how young Minmay was when she met him. Or rather, her; it was a few months before Minmay found out he was a guy. You _do_ recall, do you not, how she was constantly hanging off him?" Claudia paused to sip her tea. "She took to splashing him with water, because she was too shy to do anything like that with his male half."

"It's a shame we lost Doctor Wood," observed Misa. "But obviously, you've stepped into her shoes."

Claudia snorted. "The signs were all there, if one merely had the ability to look for them. But neither you nor Ranma ever saw them."

"We had other concerns," quipped Misa.

"Well, here's one you should have thought of earlier. She's nineteen now, with a singing career and a lot more experience under her belt. Plus, she's had to deal with her asshole cousin for the last two years." Claudia shook her head. "Unless I'm very wrong, I doubt that she's going to be playing the shy little girl any more."

* * *

The night was cool, but given the date and the latitude, it should have been a lot colder. Ranma had done up his jacket, but didn't bother with a scarf or hat.

The townsfolk of Grant had decided, after their run-in with the rogue Zentraedi, that perhaps having the U. N. Spacy around might not be such a bad thing. It relieved Ranma of the need to carry out Nabiki's possibly illegal orders.

"Dammit!"

Ranma glanced up at the familiar voice. _Ling Kaifunn—what the heck is he doin' here?_ He was out of sight, probably behind one of the big boulders that littered the area.

There was a long pause, then Kaifunn resumed speaking. "What a miserable little town."

Minmay's voice answered him. "You've had too much to drink again."

_Again?_

"All those people there, and this is all they can manage to give us?" There was a sound of glass and metal.

"They didn't have to give me anything." Minmay's voice was tired.

"You're a professional," stated Kaifunn. "You don't sing for free."

"Why not?" There was more animation in her voice now. "I sing to make people happy." She paused. "It'd feel strange to try to ask them to give more, when they barely have enough to get by as it is."

"We have to make a living," said Kaifunn. "What's wrong with getting what we can?"

"These people have enough trouble just surviving," said Minmay. "We should be thankful that we got anything at all."

"We should be _thankful_ for handouts?" Kaifunn's voice had risen to a shout. "Dammit—"

The sound of shattering glass propelled Ranma into motion. He casually hopped over the boulder, alighting next to the arguing couple. "Yo. Minmay."

"Ranma!" Minmay smiled. "It's been almost three months—"

Kaifunn eyed Ranma. "Butt out, soldier boy. We don't need any help from you."

"Wasn't talkin' to you." Ranma turned back to Minmay. "This guy botherin' you?"

"A bit, yes," admitted Minmay. "In fact, I was just thinking that we should go our separate ways, Kaifunn."

Kaifunn gaped at her. "You're leaving...with _him?_"

"The U. N. Spacy is trying to rebuild the world," said Minmay frostily.

"Let's not forget," said Kaifunn, "that it's their fault it's like this in the first place!"

"Goodbye, Kaifunn," said Minmay sadly. "Perhaps we can work together in the future, if you can stop drinking."

* * *

The flight back to Macross City was quiet. Minmay was wedged back in the storage compartment of _Hawkwing_, which was not the most comfortable place to ride. Ranma had handed her a spare helmet, with intercom, but she'd been apparently lost in her thoughts. It was not until Ranma was in the landing pattern that he broke the silence.

"What will you do now?"

"I don't know," admitted Minmay. "There must be an entertainment industry in Macross. Perhaps I can find work there."

"What about a place to stay?" asked Ranma. "We don't have any hotels; Macross City is largely a military base."

"I don't know," said Minmay.

"_Skull Thirteen, come right to fifteen degrees and descend to Angels Ten._"

Ranma nosed the airplane down, following the ATC's instructions. "You can stay at my place," he offered. "I've got a couch. I can crash on that, and you can have the bed."

"I wouldn't want to put you out—"

"It's strictly temporary," said Ranma quickly. "Nabs owes me a favour, an' I'm pretty sure I can get you set up in base housing. In fact, I should be able to get you your own place for tomorrow night."

There was a pause before her voice came back over the intercom. "All right. I'll take you up on that."

* * *

"I don't think we'll have any problem with that," said Nabiki. She paused to drain her teacup. "Of course, base housing isn't that great—"

Ranma shrugged. "I make do."

"You also spent ten years living on the road," pointed out Nabiki. "Not exactly a civilized way to grow up. That first night you were at our place, you didn't even remember to put the sign out when you went for a bath."

"Do you think it would have stopped her?" asked Ranma. "She still thought I was a girl!"

"Who?" asked Minmay.

"My wife," said Ranma. "Except we weren't married at the time, or even engaged. Yet."

Nabiki chuckled. "Anyway, as you guessed, Ranma, we certainly can't do it tonight, but I know of an unallocated unit near yours. Unfurnished and no power as of yet, but I can get an engineer in there to install the solar panels, and then she's set." She paused again, and scowled at her teacup. "I really miss Kasumi at times...she made the best tea." She looked up. "What are you doing for tonight, Minmay?"

"Ranma offered his place," said Minmay. "He said he'd let me sleep on the couch."

"No," said Ranma. "I said _I'd_ take the couch, and you can have the bed."

"I don't want to—"

"We've been over that," said Ranma. "Besides, like Nabs said, I used to sleep on the ground, did it for ten years. An' I was a Marine for ten more years, an' they don't live much better." He snorted. "Even a military-issue mattress is like livin' soft."

"Well," said Nabiki. "I've got the documents here to get her installed in her own apartment, so while we fill them out, Ranma, why don't you run back to your quarters and get them cleaned up?"

"As if they ain't spotless," grumbled Ranma.

"Girl talk, kiddo," said Nabiki sweetly. "Get lost for a while."

* * *

Misa paused as the door of Nabiki's prefab started to open, and ducked back into the shadows. She wasn't certain why she did so, but was rather glad she did when she saw Ranma emerge from the apartment. He pulled his jacket shut against the cool night wind, and started jogging towards his own prefab.

_What the hell was he doing there?_

Her mind jumped back two and a half years, to something Nabiki had told her then.

_"You know," she said brightly, "I was planning to steal him away from you."_

_Did I...did I wait too long? Nabiki all but said that only the fact that he and I were together was holding her back._

Her frown deepened.

_No, if they were dating, the grapevine would have reported it to me. In all possible cruel detail._

She looked up again, but Ranma was not noted for moving slowly; he was already out of sight. She started towards his apartment. She still had a chance, if she were willing to take it.

* * *

Somehow, she'd beaten him to his apartment. _He must have stopped at a corner store, or something,_ she mused. His windows were still dark, and there was no answer when she knocked at the door. She cursed her foolishness, then turned to walk away.

_Maybe he_ is _dating Nabiki, or maybe they're just starting to see each other in that light...Lord knows it took_ us _a hell of a long time to stop lying to ourselves..._

She shook her head.

_And you threw it all away, you stupid bitch! You've got nobody to blame but yourself._

She looked up, and saw Ranma. He was walking towards the apartment...with Minmay.

_What is_ she _doing here?_

"Yo, Misa." Ranma waved a hand casually.

"Ranma." Her voice was a bit chilly, but Ranma—ever insensitive to other's moods—failed to notice.

"Whatcha up to?"

"I was just stopping by to visit you, but you weren't home. And I see that you already have company."

_That_ time, the cold in her voice was enough for him to notice. He raised a hand.

"Not what ya think, Misa. Minmay is without a place to stay, so until we get her hooked up with her own apartment, she's gonna crash at my place."

"Ranma was kind enough to help me out when Kaifunn and I had a disagreement," added Minmay.

It certainly didn't help Misa's growing anger. "As usual, a female in distress brings out the best—or the worst—in him." She shook her head. "Claudia, Nabiki—even Milia, who you'd sworn to kill—"

"I got my revenge on Milia," objected Ranma. "Livin' was worse punishment for her than dyin'. Nabiki's my sister-in-law. An' when did Claudia ever need savin'?"

She felt a chill running up her back, her ire vanishing almost instantly, as she realized that she might have gone just a little too far. "Sorry, Ranma. But—"

His anger was obviously growing, however, and could not be staved off by a mere apology. "An' on top of that, let's not forget, it was you that broke up with me, not the other way around." His speech patterns were falling back on those of his youth, the rough mannerisms that only showed up when he was truly exercised about something. "So it seems ta me that ya got no say anymore in who I spend time with. Am I right?"

"You're right," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, Ranma, Minmay. I'll go now."

She turned and walked away, head down. Behind her, she heard Minmay's voice.

"Weren't you a bit hard on her, Ranma?"

"I guess..." He sighed. "But it reminded me of the bad old times in Nerima..."

_Dammit!_

She saw a pay phone, and picked up the receiver. She swiped her phone card through the reader, and punched in a number.

"Hello?"

"It's Misa. Can I come over and talk?"

"Sure, hon. What's wrong?"

Misa looked over her shoulder, but Ranma was gone.

"I screwed up badly, Claudia. Really badly."


	30. Chapter TwentyNine: The Need To Fight

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Twenty-Nine: The Need To Fight**

**March 7th, 2012**

Ranma pulled on the center stick, and the YF-4 Lightning III prototype variable fighter brought its nose up until it was in a near-vertical climb. He firewalled the engines, then shifted the throttle to the left, past the afterburner detente, and up to stage five. The reaction mass flow control valves opened all the way, dumping water into the superheated exhaust of the FF-2001 fusion engines, and the big jet poured on yet more acceleration.

"_Approaching atmospheric service ceiling._"

"I can see that, Misa."

The atmospheric pressure was dropping off quickly; the fighter noted the fact, and switched over to pure rocket thrust. The loss of thrust was barely noticeable, but the rate at which he was now burning through reaction mass jumped sharply.

"Twenty seconds to engine cutoff."

The sky turned from dark purple to black, and Ranma grinned, despite the acceleration forces pulling the skin back from his face. The engines cut out, and Ranma checked his position on the INS and guidance computer.

"A little off, but not too shabby. I think there's still a flutter in the reaction mass flow valves; I was getting uneven thrust."

"_We'll check that against the black box, but I think you're right._"

"Starting turnover." He pushed the stick down. In microgravity with no atmosphere, the control surfaces were just inert chunks of metal; the flight computer noted this fact, and fired the vernier jets on the nose and tail of the Lightning. The YF-4 nosed down, until the curve of the Earth was visible just below the nose.

"Hey, Misa. If this thing can't handle re-entry, what do I do?"

"_Jetisson the airplane._"

"Great." He checked the nav comp, then touched a control. "Starting my burn in fifteen seconds."

"_I have you on NAVSTAR...your re-entry angle looks good._"

"Why, thank you, Colonel."

The engines kicked in again, for only twenty seconds, and the fighter began re-entry. "Burn on schedule, and we are on course. See you in a few hours."

* * *

"Low orbit turns out not to be a problem at all." Ranma tapped the report sitting in front of him. "We got a full print-out of the logs from the computer, and they match to six places with the projected numbers, once we allowed for the flutter in the number three fuel pump. However, I basically burned the fighter dry doin' it. Had to make an air-only landing. I don't think we can make geosynchronous orbit with any sort of realistic payload."

"But you could do it with external tanks?"

Ranma nodded. "Yes, Sir, but like I said, we'd need every station filled with extra gas to get up there. Leavin' the jet with nothing but the internal cannons."

Global nodded. "I understand that, Commander Saotome. Of course, if the need is merely to rendezvous with orbital support, such as a carrier, then this is acceptable."

"I don't want to try it until we _do_ have a carrier up there," said Ranma. "I was a bit skittish about trying for low orbit without the extra gas."

"I thought you test pilots liked to live on the edge." Nabiki smirked.

"_On_ the edge, yeah." Ranma snorted. "But I went twenty kilometers _above_ the edge of that jet's envelope. Pilots die when they leave the envelope."

"What about the armaments?" Global flipped to another page of his own report. "I understand you underwent gunnery range testing last week."

"Main guns work nicely, but the recharge cycle could be brought down." Ranma scowled. "I ain't trained up fully on LASER operations, but it seems to me that the guns need too long to recharge."

"Point eight seconds is required to fully recharge the weapons," said McCain. He was the Stonewell-Bellcom representative. Ranma snorted.

"You can get awful dead in point eight seconds. You ever flown combat?"

"Well...no."

"I have. An' trust me, you don't wanna have to wait for nothin'."

"There is the GU-11 for backup—"

"The gun pod has an ammo limit," countered Ranma. "Plus, it doesn't have the penetration of the LASER cannons. That was a bright note," he said to Global. "Those guns can punch through two meters of armour, compared to sixty centimeters for the GU-11 rounds. But thermal blooming eats into their penetration over long periods of fire." He turned back to the representative. "The guns fire for a quarter second per pulse, correct?"

"Yes." The representative nodded. "Anything over that, and the thermal blooming attenuates the beam more drastically."

"But there's gonna be some blooming at a quarter second as well. Can you dial back the pulse length, to maybe point two or point one five seconds?"

McCain shrugged. "We can do that with a software patch, try it out tomorrow. But I'd expect to lose some penetration."

"Maybe at point blank range, but I'm guessing at medium range, it'll be nearly the same. An' until Raytheon produces a prototype for the new missile, all we can really do is tinker with the guns."

* * *

"Being a test pilot seems to agree with you."

Ranma sat down at the kitchen table. "Well, it beats hell out of flying recon." He and Misa had managed to patch things up, more or less, and their friendship was back on an even keel. It had helped that Nabiki had come through on the apartment for Minmay. The very next day, she'd been installed in her own place. Misa had tried to make amends with her by donating a couple of pieces of furniture for the apartment.

Luckily, Minmay was too damn nice to hold a grudge.

"Exedol has finished his genetic workup of the Zentraedi genome," said Misa. She was standing by the kitchen sink, looking out the window. "He wants us to sit in on the presentation and discussion in two hours."

"'Us' as in the U. N. Spacy, or 'us' as in you and I?"

Misa smirked. "'Us' as in you and I. And Commander Jenius, Commander Ichigyo and Milia. And he wants you in female form."

Luckily, Ranma had not been about to sip his tea. "Well, you can tell him to go to hell on that last one," he growled. "I ain't appearin' anywhere near Max in girl form. Bad enough that Milia'd be there; Max still hasn't given up entirely on _her._"

"Milia's a better martial artist now," said Misa with a bit of a grin. "Max might find that hitting on her could be...painful."

"She _is_ gettin' good," allowed Ranma. "Probably better than you now."

"Gee, thanks." Misa's tone was dry.

Ranma shook his head. "I ain't gonna apologize for it; it's simply the truth. She's got nothin' to do every day besides train, an' she's been throwin' herself into it. You get maybe an hour a day nowadays, with all your other jobs you're doin', but she spends five hours a day in the dojo. Even _I_ don't get that much time." Ranma frowned. "She might be better than me, before long."

"Who said that?" laughed Misa.

"Hey, ever since I started workin' for a livin', I ain't had time to keep up with the Art," objected Ranma. "So of course _someone's_ gonna surpass me, right?" He shrugged. "At least there aren't many people I'd prefer to surpass me."

Misa bit her lip against the retort that sprang up. _The last thing I need is to start another fight this soon._ She walked over from the window, and sat down at the table across from him.

"Listen, Ranma...I really do need to apologize for what happened last week." She stared down at her hands. "I know that...well, we're not together any more, not really going to be together in the future—"

"Misa—"

"I know you want to stay friends, and I'm good with that," Misa hurried on. She didn't want him to confirm it, didn't want him to kill all hope, even though—"Because I value your friendship above any others', including Claudia's."

Ranma waited a few seconds, until convinced she'd said everything she meant to. "Misa, the war wasn't a great time for anyone, really. You and me were under a lot of stress, and we took it out on each other."

"That's for sure," muttered Misa.

"And I wondered, if we might not do better with less stress on us."

She looked up in surprise, and for the first time in almost two years, looked him right in the eye.

_My God...he's lonely. As much as I am. And he's surrounded by friends—Nabiki, Claudia, even that twit Minmay—and he's still alone._

_Just like he's always been._

"So if you maybe wanna start dating again—"

"No, Ranma." A part of her was screaming, _What are you_ doing_, you bloody idiot!_, but she ignored it. "I admit, part of me is tempted, but the stress we're under now is just as real, and no less intense. It's just a different kind of stress."

"We've been getting along a hell of a lot better over the last year than—"

"You mean aside from last week's little incident?" She smiled. "I think we've been getting along better because we're trying to be friends, instead of trying to be lovers. Like you said, almost three years ago now. We knew when to break it off, early enough to keep our friendship intact."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Miss Ling, but I'm afraid that, while we'd absolutely love to have you here, we've got a commitment with Ricky Tang, and I don't want to leave him in the lurch." The manager looked rather downcast at having to admit it. "I mean, you dump someone, no matter who it is, or who you're bringing in, and people in this industry remember."

"I understand, Mr. Gerasimko." Minmay sighed. "I was hoping that maybe you'd have an opening."

"Call me Ilya," insisted the manager. "Ilya Valeriych."

"All right, Ilya Valeriych." Minmay smiled.

"Have you tried at Teddy's?" asked Ilya. "Arnorrson manages the entertainment there, and I can give him a call if you want."

"Thank you, but no." She'd already tried Teddy's.

"Well, leave my your com code," said Ilya. "If Ricky ever decides to move on, I promise you, you'll be the first I call."

Minmay handed over her card—the phones used in Macross City all had bar-code scanners, and the com code was printed on the back, both in human-readable and machine-readable forms. "Thanks, Ilya."

"And don't worry," said Ilya. "This town is growing by leaps and bounds. I'm sure you'll have work in no time. You're Ling Minmay, after all!"

* * *

_Yeah, I'm Ling Minmay, now without an agent,_ she mused. _I've been insulated from real work up till now, and I'm doing terribly!_

Nabiki had managed to wrangle basic rations for her, in addition to the apartment, but if she couldn't find a job, she'd be unable to go anywhere from where she was. Her situation right now was a big, fat zero. If she could get a toehold in this city, anything at all...but a week of hunting had turned up nothing.

_I helped win the damn war. I'm Ling Minmay! Don't these people know who I_ am?

She crushed down the thought. That sort of nonsense belonged back with her childhood...wherever she'd misplaced it. Sure, she'd helped win the war. But what, really, had she done in the last two years?

She looked up, and was surprised to find that her wanderings had led her back to Nabiki's door.

_I could ask her for help...But Ranma always told me to count my fingers after shaking Nabiki's hand..._

Well, things were getting pretty desperate. She stepped up, and thumbed the doorbell.

"Come!"

She opened the door, and stepped into the apartment. Nabiki was in the armchair, in the half of the main room that served as a living room. Seated across from her, on the sofa, was—

"Saotome-san!" Minmay bowed. "A pleasure to see you again."

"I'm sorry, Miss...do I know—Oh!" Nodoka's hand flew to her mouth. "Ling Minmay! What a pleasant surprise."

"Grab a piece of the couch, Minmay." Nabiki stood and wandered towards the kitchen. "Want a cup of tea?"

"Yes, thank you." She turned to look at Saotome. The older woman—her auburn hair showing a trace or two of grey, but she still looked young enough to be Ranma's sister, rather than his mother—was wearing an elegant kimono, rather than the business suit she'd worn last time Minmay had seen her. "I was worried that maybe you hadn't made it out of Yokohama before—"

"I was on a business trip," she said. "Okinawa. Since then, I've been trying to get here, to Macross City. I thought that if my son survived the war—and I was certain he _had_(emhe'd be here."

"He is," confirmed Minmay. "In fact, he helped me out just last week."

"Just like my son." The stars appeared again in Nodoka's eyes, and Minmay chuckled.

"Yeah, Saotome always has a soft spot for the damsel in distress," said Nabiki. She set a teacup in front of Minmay, then picked up the pot and poured it full. "So, Minmay. What brings you here?"

"Well...I kind of need more help," admitted Minmay. "The job market here isn't quite what I thought it would be, and without an agent—"

"No agents to be had in Macross City," said Nabiki. "We're still largely a military town, and there's only three private venues so far."

"And I've tried all three," said Minmay. "Plus, most other kinds of jobs—they aren't hiring wait staff, short order cooks, or even dishwashers! And outside of entertainment, the restaurant industry is all I know."

Nabiki nodded carefully. "Well, you know that the only sorts of jobs I could offer would be in the Intelligence Department of the Space Service. And U. N. Spacy—well, I think it wouldn't be a good match for you."

"I considered it, a couple of years back, during the war." Minmay bit her lip. "Ranma kind of told me I wouldn't fit in."

"Oh, he did?" Nabiki frowned. "Not like him to actively discourage someone...I hate to agree with Little Brother about anything, but I think he's right."

"What about our company?" asked Nodoka.

"Tennasaono doesn't really exist anymore," said Nabiki. "The three best girls were with me on the day of the Invasion, and they're all now part of the Service, just like me. The company office was flattened from orbit, and you spent the better part of two years out of contact...In fact, you're the first member of the company I've heard from aside from Chloe, Kirika or Yasmina."

"Perhaps I should start it up again," mused Nodoka. "Is there much need for security in this town?"

Nabiki snorted. "We're eighty percent Service here." She paused. "On the other hand, we could use more Johnny Legs—civilian security. And Global's talked about turning the police function over to the civilians as soon as they can get some people together."

"There you go, then." Nodoka smiled, then turned to Minmay. "How would you like to be a police officer?"

Minmay blinked.

* * *

"Thank you for coming, Commander Saotome." Global bowed to him, then turned and grasped Max's hand. "And you, Commander Jenius."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Commander Ichigyo is already present—" Hikaru was, at the moment, at the credenza in the back corner, preparing a cup of coffee. "—as is Assault Leader Fallyna."

"Misa's gone to get Nabs," said Ranma, "so I'm expectin' them to turn up any minute."

"Excellent. Archivist Exedol will be here shortly as well, and just so we have enough Zentraedi representation, he's bringing Specialists Warera Nantes, Konda Bromco, and Roli Dosel."

Ranma snickered. "The spies."

"Indeed." Global tugged at his mustache. "One thing, however, Commander. Archivist Exedol requested that you be present in your female form—"

Max laughed. "You got the Admiral roped into that con as well?"

Ranma bristled. "All right, I've officially had enough of that crap, Max. Sir, you got a cup of water here?"

"No need, Mister Saotome. Whatever reason that Exedol may have had, you enlisted as a male, and I'd just as soon have you here in that capacity."

"Gosh, Ranma. Looks like you dodged the bullet again." Max pulled his glasses off and polished the lenses. He set them back on his nose, and peered at Ranma. "Yep. Still look like a guy."

"Max—"

"Gentlemen, please. If you would take your seats?"

Ranma and Max walked to the far side of the V-shaped table, one glowering, the other chuckling.

"Master Saotome." Milia nodded to him as he sat.

"This ain't the dojo," said Ranma. "Ranks are appropriate here."

"Yes, Commander."

"How's the Diplomatic Corps?"

Milia had, at Ranma's suggestion, applied to the U. N. Spacy, but had been declined due to her Zentraedi heritage. However, Global was not one to waste talent, and had found other work for her. And from courtesy, always referred to her by her Zentraedi rank.

Milia sighed. "Do you know what the primary difference between the Zentraedi Armed Forces and your culture is?"

"What's that?"

"The Zentraedi never invented paperwork." She sighed. "Approximately thirty percent of the Zentraedi that I have contacted have requested recloning. However, I suspect that some of them were coerced by Humans."

Hikaru had been walking past just as she said this, his cup of coffee in hand. He paused, and said, "I have to say, I prefer seeing the Zentraedi micloned. There aren't nearly as many Humans left as there are Zentraedi, and your normal size gives you a significant advantage."

"Should be their say," said Ranma. "I wouldn't mind more Zentraedi being micloned, either, but that's just my prejudice speaking. If they don't want to be recloned, they shouldn't be. The procedure's risky."

"Well, I ain't gonna pressure any into the procedure, either," said Hikaru. "I just feel...safer...every time one gets resized."

"No doubt Hitler felt safer every time a Jew was sent to Auschwitz," offered Milia.

Hikaru blinked. "That's not the—" He broke off. "Okay, I guess it is the same. Sorry, Milia." He walked down to his seat, and set his coffee on the table. He pulled his chair out, flipped it around, and sat down, arms across the back.

Exedol entered, followed by the three spies. They took the left side of the table, almost filling it. Global sat at the head of the table, and glanced down the right side. "Assault Leader Fallyna. I believe that you are in Colonel Hayase's place."

"I apologize, Admiral. I was not aware that seating was assigned." She stood, bowed to Ranma, and walked around the table.

Ranma watched her sit down, then glanced down a bit, to see her name on the tag in front of her place. Then glanced at the seat next to his, with Misa's tag sitting on the blotter right next to his. He looked up, to meet Max's eyes on the other side of Misa's seat.

"I think she _wants_ to be in Colonel Hayase's place," said Max.

Ranma scowled again, but luckily, the murmur of conversation in the room drowned out Max's quiet aside. Max grinned.

"You know, Max, you're lucky you're such an easygoing guy," said Ranma.

Max's grin widened.

The door opened again, and Nabiki and Misa walked in. Misa sat between Ranma and Max, and Nabiki sat on the other side of Max, at Global's right hand.

"And I believe that that is everybody," said Global. "Of course, Archivist Exedol, you _do_ have a penchant for remembering someone we missed...?"

"Not today," chuckled Exedol. "However, I did request that Commander Saotome be in female form."

"Him, too?" snickered Max.

"I had wanted there to be even numbers of Human males and females."

Global shook his head. "Even when he is in female form, Commander Saotome is still male, and has a male's viewpoint."

"Oh." Exedol blinked. "Well, in that event, we might as well begin.

"Over the last three months, myself and three other scientists have been conducting a mapping of the Zentraedi genome, much as your people have done with the Human genome. Among other things, we intended to determine a means of procreation for the Zentraedi race."

"What's wrong with the old-fashioned way?" asked Hikaru.

"The 'old-fashioned way' for Humans, or Zentraedi?" asked Exedol. "I shall address both in order.

"It is little known among the Zentraedi that our people are fertile," he began. "There was no need to do anything to prevent conception, as our sexes were rigidly segragated, and taught to distrust each other. However, there are difficulties with normal child-bearing for Zentraedi. The first is that while we have weeded out most genetic defects, many conditions that cause complications only during sexual reproduction have _not_ been bred out. No reason why they should be."

"Those are very few—" began Misa.

"Among Humans, yes, because evolution has deselected them. But the Zentraedi have not been exposed to one hundred thousand years of sexual reproduction." Exedol sighed. "Unfortunately, such conditions exist in thirty percent of female Zentraedi, and close to fifty percent of male. And there are over a hundred times as many such conditions among the Zentraedi."

"Ouch," muttered Max.

"Even were that not a factor," continued Exedol, "sexual reproduction would not be possible between two full-sized Zentraedi. The increased physical strain of carrying a full-sized fetus would most likely kill the host."

"The mother," corrected Global.

"I apologize," said Exedol. "It is just that the behaviour of a fetus, prior to birth, is remarkably like that of a parasite."

"For some years after birth, too," pointed out Nabiki. "Call it twenty years, sometimes more."

There were snickers from the Human side of the table, but the Zentraedi merely looked blank.

"There is also the issue of mistrust," said Milia. "Male Zentraedi have been working side by side with females, both Human and Zentraedi, for two years. Despite their instant obedience, they still do not trust females of either species. Sexual procreation, by definition, requires at least a small amount of trust between the two parties. And those few female Zentraedi trust nobody except themselves." She tilted her head. "Present company excluded."

"There is also the fact that thus far, only two thousand Zentraedi females have been catalogued." Exedol frowned. "There are no doubt more, but they are avoiding contact."

"So much for the Human way," said Ranma. "What about the Zentraedi way?" He frowned, remembering the brief he'd gotten from Nabiki so many years ago. "_In vitro_ fertilization, artificial wombs, a creche, and then education, right?"

Exedol shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately, that turns out to be false."

"What do you mean?"

"When we started the mapping procedure, it became apparent that our data was skewed," said Exedol. "We ended up throwing out a week's work and starting again from scratch. And what we found was...disturbing.

"We are a race of clones."

"...Come again?" Ranma blinked. "If you're clones, why don't you all look alike?"

"You suffer under a common misapprehension," said Exedol. "The cloning procedure does not create a duplicate of the individual, but instead an artificial descendant. Family lines exist, as we were told, but each comes from a single donor, not a line of descent. We are grown in tanks to maturity—"

"That cannot be!" Milia looked shocked. "I remember the days in the creche, I remember education, selection for the Air Force—"

"All implanted memories, I am afraid," said Exedol. "I suspect that skills can only be implanted when backed by memories. Plus, such memories make the person easier to control. All the signs were there. Why is it that we gain close to fifteen thousand kilograms in only thirteen Earth years? How is it that we can be force-grown to maturity after primary education, then never again after that? For that matter, you have heard of individuals that never physically mature, or ones like myself—" He gestured to his skinny form. "—whose size is not suited for combat. How would this be possible, if we had such control over our bodies?

"No, I fear that defective individuals, like myself, are the result of _imperfect_ control. We did not evolve as we are now, but were created. We were bred—no, _designed_—for war, and little else."

There was silence after that. Global finally broke it.

"So who created you?"

"There is no way of knowing," said Exedol. "Our histories speak of a race that we call the Protoculture. We know that they were humanoid, and that our Imperative was to defend them. It seems likely that they created us, but they have been extinct for five thousand of your years. It seems unlikely that we can ask them."

"What effect with this discovery have on your ability to reproduce in the Zentraedi fashion, Archivist?"

"It nullifies them completely," said Exedol. "You see, we do not have the means to perform the cloning—neither the hardware, nor the donor genetic information. Our recloning chambers could probably be reworked to do the trick, but there is no Zentraedi with sufficient knowledge to do so, and unfortunately, your own biosciences are not up to the task, either."

"So the Human way is out, and the Zentraedi way is out," said Ranma. "Is there any way that we can help?"

"I was just getting to that, Commander Saotome." Exedol touched a control on the table, and a hologram sprang to life. "Here, you see the Zentraedi genetic makeup." It was in the form of a double-helix, the DNA graphic most familiar to the viewers—and remarkably similar to the DNA molecule itself. "And here is the Human genetic makeup." A second graphic sprang into existence.

Misa blinked. "I've seen those before. My father—"

"Indeed. This information was prepared by Admiral Hayase Takeshi." Exedol smirked. "He did his best to wipe us out, and in doing so, accidentally gave us the key to survival."

The two codes merged, like cancelling like, and leaving only two markers untouched.

"As you can see, the genetic makeup of our two species is practically identical. These two markers control only cosmetic differences—eye, hair and skin colour. They also carry some of the genetic disorders of which I spoke earlier."

Nabiki nodded. "I see now how we could help."

"Indeed. Our two species—though it might be more appropriate to refer to us as two _breeds_—are cross-fertile." Exedol beamed. "We can reproduce with you."

"Not unless you buy me a drink first," said Nabiki dryly. "This should be impossible, you know."

"How do you mean?"

"There are millions of species on this planet," said Nabiki. "Do you know how many of them Humans are cross-fertile with? None. Zero. So the odds of another species from another _planet_ being cross-fertile with humans are astronomical. Pardon the pun."

"It is possible that we have a common ancestor," said Exedol. "Perhaps the Protoculture colonized this planet."

"Fossil records don't support that," pointed out Nabiki. "But the Mayan Island Incident does seem to indicate that the Protoculture came here once before."

"Roy was on that mission," mused Ranma.

"I know," said Misa.

"The genetic similarity helps explain some other things that have been bothering me," continued Exedol. "That we share a similar form is not such a puzzle—Humanoid seems to be a common evolutionary pattern. But we are alike in societal matters as well. For example, both—species? Breeds? What is the best word here?"

"Races?" suggested Global.

"That will have to serve, I suppose. Both races are social creatures, preferring company over solitude. Both are status-conscious. Where ours is solely a military hierarchy, Humans impose an order of precedence over any and every function. Even in the most informal settings, one person tends to become the leader."

"True enough," said Nabiki. "If you've ever been to a cocktail party, and seen a guest steal the floor from underneath the hostess—"

"Exactly," said Exedol. "Further, both races seem to have a penchant for violence. Both seem to enjoy conflict."

"Whoa, back up," said Hikaru. "I don't agree there. Sure, Humans have a pretty violent history, but I can't say that most people _enjoy_ war. I know that _I_ don't."

"Have you ever seen an anti-war movie, Commander?" Misa tilted her head. "_Full Metal Jacket_, for example, or _Apocalypse Now_ are great examples."

"Not to mention, all the books, poetry and what-not that _glorify_ war," added Nabiki. "All those lines about the honour of battle and the warrior's way. Even if someone's acting purely on the defensive, we remember them as savage fighters. The English airmen of the Battle of Britain, for example."

"I can't help noticing, Exedol, that you said violence and conflict," said Ranma. "Not _war_. And I agree with you one hundred percent."

Exedol beamed. Max and Hikaru scowled.

"After all," continued Ranma. "Almost one hundred percent of Human activity centers around conflict. All our sports are stylized battle. Our most popular and enduring board games are wargames—Chess, for example."

"All your video games are combat-oriented," added Milia.

"What about romance?" asked Max.

Nabiki laughed. "You never saw Ranma's teenage years, or you wouldn't bring that up at all."

Misa nodded. "In the end, it's about species survival. It's about stomping out other species, tribed, whatever, so that yours can continue."

"I think that the only difference there, Exedol, is that Humans have learned to channel our combative nature to some extent." Ranma leaned back. "Only somewhat, mind you. But we've learned to turn our violence to good ends."

"True," said Exedol. "By channeling it into competitiveness, which can be quite constructive. Unlike ourselves, who were never given that option. We were designed as weapons, first and foremost, with everything else being secondary."


	31. Chapter Thirty: The Expeditionary Force

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Thirty: The Expeditionary Force**

**March 14th, 2012**

"It is a shame that things didn't work out for you and your lady friend," said Nodoka.

Ranma shrugged. "We were good friends before, and we're trying to stay good friends now. We gave it a shot, and it didn't work. What more can we do?"

"At least you remained friendly," said Nodoka. "More than can be said for your father and I."

"Yeah, but unlike Pops, Misa ain't an idiot."

"That's not very nice, Ranma." She paused. "Unfortunately true, but still not very nice." She paused to sip her tea. "So at the moment, there is no woman in your life?"

"No."

"Why not?" asked Nodoka. "Surely you are enough man for any woman out there."

"The question is, are any of them enough woman for _me_?" Ranma shrugged. "Misa comes the closest, of all the women I've met, but she's just too...clingy, I guess. She gets jealous easily, and she holds grudges."

"And Akane didn't?"

Ranma snorted. "Akane had a gold medal in jealousy, and a silver in grudge-holding. But she never gave up, and she always wanted to be the best. Misa doesn't have that sort of competitive spirit." He bit his lip. "Well, she does, but not the same way."

"And the difference is critical?"

"I'm afraid so." He sighed.

"Well, surely you must know some other ladies."

"Well, there's Claudia, but she's not really my type, and I'm not really her type..." Ranma snorted. "Plus, there's the little detail that she was engaged to my best friend, who was shot down during the war."

"There's Minmay."

Ranma rolled his eyes. "Please, Mom. Minmay's young enough to be my daughter. Plus the fact that she's about as unlike me as you can possibly get."

"She worships the ground you walk on."

"And that's just a lot creepy, okay?" He shuddered.

"And there's Nabiki."

"I've already been engaged to her, all right? Longest week of my life. Plus, I've already married a Tendo, so the agreement's fulfilled."

"Yes, she told me the story."

There was a single knock at the door, and it opened. "Master."

Ranma looked up. "Yeah, Milia?"

Milia already wore her battle suit, her helmet cradled in the crook of her arm. "Commanders Jenius and Ichigyo await you in the jeep. We are at minus fifty minutes, and it will require ten minutes to reach the space port."

"Gimme a few minutes, okay?"

"Do not take too long. Commander Jenius is becoming irritating." She turned and stepped out, closing the door behind her.

"Who was that?"

"Hm?" Ranma glanced back at his mother. "Milia Fallyna. Assault Leader, and one of my students."

"She's _lovely!_"

Nodoka had a familiar look in her eyes, and Ranma decided to head her off. "Okay, three problems with that, Mom." He raised a finger. "She _is_ a student of mine." A second finger. "She's also quite young—in fact, we recently found out she's younger than Minmay." A third finger. "She's Zentraedi."

"Zentraedi?" Nodoka blinked. "Wasn't she a bit short to be a Zentraedi?"

"Long story. Nabiki can fill you in." He stood up, and grabbed his duffel. "I'd love to stay and chat, but unfortunately, duty calls."

"Well, it's been good to see you again, Ranma, even if only for a few days." Nodoka stood and bowed to her son. "Good luck on your next mission."

Ranma grinned. "What's with the bowing?" He grabbed his mother in a bear hug, getting a surprised squeak out of her. "Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it. Then we can finish our conversation."

"I'm looking forward to it," she said.

* * *

The booster rocket was a large, unpleasant-looking piece of hardware. Four separate rocket motors, containing fuel tanks and other auxiliary equipment, were strapped to a coupling system designed to attach to a Valkyrie's hull. He'd never used one before, even on a check flight, and was uncertain of his checklist.

Luckily, Chief Warrant Officer Bell understood it fully.

"We've completed every pre-flight check up to number eighty-seven," she was saying. "The remaining forty-four have to be done during countdown, starting at T minus ten minutes. For the last twenty-seven, you have to be in the front office."

"Okay." Ranma examined his helmet, then pulled it on and strapped it in place. He took the clipboard, and started going through the list himself. Bell did not comment; it was not a sign of mistrust in her competence. No pilot would consider flying any hardware that he hadn't personally checked over, just as no skydiver would use a chute he hadn't personally packed.

"Looks good," he said as he reached the last ticked item. "You pull the pins at T minus three minutes. How are you getting upstairs?"

"Conventional shuttle," she said. "I wouldn't even _dream_ of letting you fly this mission without my help."

He might be the pilot, but Bell _owned_ the airplane.

"We'll be making a longer burn," she continued, "but with a lower acceleration. Overall, it'll place our arrival window about three hours after yours."

"And a launch window of...?"

"Two hours and fifteen minutes after you." She shrugged. "The Zentraedi commander has moved to low earth orbit, to facilitate the rendezvous. If he hadn't done that, we'd have to wait until tomorrow, and our flight time would have been about fifteen hours."

"Damn civil of him," observed Ranma. Bell laughed.

"You don't know the half of it. That orbit is gonna play hell with his fuel consumption ratios, and it isn't so good for the ship's space frame, either."

"You're right, Chief. I don't know the half of it. Nor will I ever understand it." He glanced down the flight line, at the other eighteen Valkyries present. All Skull Squadron birds. _Switchblade_ still had her Jolly Rogers markings, but he'd not flown as part of the Skull for over a month.

For that matter, he was kind of surprised that _Switchblade_ hadn't been reassigned. Technically, it was part of the Rogers' pool, but Ichigyo had given his replacement an unassigned Jaybird, and left _Switchblade_ untouched.

Just as well. The YF-4 wasn't yet certified, the prototype needed work, and the Rogers wouldn't be able to co-ordinate with him, given the Lightning's new avionics. Better to be in a familiar bird; better still that it was _Switchblade_, rather than forcing him to learn a new bird's quirks and gripes.

He waved towards Ichigyo as the young Commander made his way to _Skull One_. Luckily, Max was still in command of the Diamondbacks, and would not be accompanying them on this trip. Not that Ranma disliked Max, but his continued disbelief in the curse was proving to be an irritant.

The PA system blared, and Misa's voice rang out. "**T minus ten minutes.**"

"Okay," said Bell. "Fuel systems visual inspection."

Ranma nodded, and waited for her to point out the fuel systems, so that he knew what to inspect.

* * *

"**T minus one minute.**"

"Avionics active."

"_Guidance check._" Bell was now in the bunker, still going through the checklist with him by radio. Ranma checked his INS, compared that to the GPS feed, and instructed the computer to solve the burn equations itself.

"All guidance systems concur. I have guidance lock."

"_Elevating._"

_Switchblade_ shuddered, and began to rise, nose pointing skywards. The landing gear were already fully retracted.

The airplane finished its rotation, and he began checking the INS gyros again. "My angle of departure is thirty-nine point three five degrees."

"_Recompute._"

He was already doing so. "Navigation computer confirms departure angle, and main burn is recomputed. Match with ground computer and with mission control to six places."

Tell-me-three-times was a standard procedure. The odds of finding an error were much greater when the answer were computed three times rather than only twice, or—unthinkable!—once. Also, finding the failed component was much easier—simply look for the single wrong answer.

"**T minus thirty seconds.**"

"_Check cabin atmospheric pressure._"

"Pressurized to one point two atmospheres, thirty percent oxygen."

"_Confirm hands off stick._"

He held both hands up to the camera.

"**T minus ten...nine...eight...**"

"_Ignition systems active._"

He couldn't see them, as the massive humps of the booster's rocket motors blocked his line of sight, but large flares—duplicates in all but size to the sparklers he'd played with as a child—were ignited by electrical fuses. They were spitting sparks and hot gas back and forth around the rocket nozzles. This was the part that really worried him; all that fire and crap around the tail of his ship, that was currently loaded down with hydrogen and liquid oxygen...

"_Main engine ignition._"

"**Three...two...one...liftoff.**"

The acceleration build, slowly pushing him back into the seat, and he gritted his teeth in the "straining on the toilet" maneuver used by pilots and astronauts since the second World War. Even then, the three gees of constant acceleration were enough to cause his vision to fade a bit around the edges. And it wasn't angular gees, such as a pilot experienced during maneuvers, with their short durations, but a constant pressure against him, making him feel four times his normal weight.

_You can take this...only seventy-five seconds at full boost._

It seemed to last an hour, and the acceleration was only increasing as the booster burned off fuel mass, but finally, it began to taper off.

"_Main engine cut-off._"

He shook his head to clear it, and glanced at the rear-view mirror above his head. The booster had propelled itself, and _Switchblade_, to just under five and a half thousand kilometers per hour—mach 4.6—and he was already forty-five kilometers down range of the launch site. More importantly, his altitude was now thirty-seven thousand meters, and _Switchblade_ was in free-fall.

"_Ten seconds to booster separation._"

He quickly checked the computer, then the cluster of indicator lights. "My board is green for separation."

The jet shuddered, as the booster rocket was blasted free. The computer consulted its memories, waited fifteen seconds, then started the fusion engines.

"Elmendorf, my engines are burning on schedule, and my vector looks clean. ETA with the Zentraedi flagship is one point nine hours."

"_Roger that,_ Switchblade_. Enjoy the trip. For your in-flight movie, we have_ The Matrix_, starring Keanu Reeves and Laurence Fishburne._"

He snorted at Bell's tongue-in-cheek humour...then roared with laughter as his central MFD began playing the movie, as promised.

* * *

It took him an hour-long burn, and a third of his available reaction mass, to reach sufficient overtake on the Zentraedi ship, and about thirty minutes of coasting once that speed had been reached. He could see it growing large in his canopy well before the computer tumbled his fighter to face away from it. A short burn later, and he had matched velocity with the massive battlewagon. The computer checked his location against the NAVSTAR satellites, the INS, and the beacons on the flagship, before deciding he had the proper velocity and location, and finally turned control of the ship back over to him.

The Rogers had arrived more or less at the same time as he. Ichigyo's face cut off the ending credits of the movie as he opened the Tac Net to general broadcast.

"_All Skulls, land on the lift-lock at seven hundred meters from the prow—there's a Zentraedi in a space suit there, he'll lead us in. Ranma, you might as well land there too."_

"Gee, thanks, Boss."

The Valkyries reconfigured to GERWALK and swept down on the Zentraedi soldier. Upon touchdown, they reconfigured to Battroid Mode. Ranma was the senior officer present; he walked his Valkyrie up to the Zentraedi and offered a U. N. Spacy Salute.

"Permission to come aboard?"

"_Permission granted._" The Zentraedi's Basic was halting, and the audio over the poor-quality radio with which his suit was equipped was full of static. He produced a hand-held device of some sort, and twisted a control.

The lift-lock descended into the Zentraedi ship, taking all twenty people below. Overhead, the hatch sealed itself.

"_Adding air will take two_ mil_, Miclones. Please wait until then to dismount._"

"Thank you, soldier." He couldn't see any rank markings on this clown. He also had no idea what a _mil_ was, but decided that he could count on the Zentraedi to let him know when it was safe.

* * *

"Commander Saotome." The giant alien bowed formally to Ranma, despite their more than considerable difference in height. "I understand that I have met you before...though I have difficulty believing the tale."

"Commander Vwritlai." Ranma bowed to him in return. "It's been a long time since we last met."

"And greetings to the rest of your intrepid crew," continued Vwritlai. "Commander Saotome was the only one present who was at the interrogation, but I understand that you two—" He indicated Misa and Hikaru. "—showed up to rescue him."

"That's correct, Sir," said Misa.

"Exedol has informed me that of the two other people present during the interrogation, one has met death with honour, and the other is not assigned to your team," continued Vwritlai. "I would have been pleased to meet Commander Jenius again—do I use your names correctly? Exedol tells me that you use your Clan names in preference to your given names."

"Among friends, we use our given names," said Misa.

"How unusual," said Vwritlai. "Well, I welcome you to my ship, and hope that you find your stay comfortable. I have caused several Miclone-scale quarters to be constructed, enough for your entire party." He glanced over to Milia. "If you so desire, Assault Leader, the recloning chamber is available to restore you to full size."

"I thank you, Commander, but that will not be needed." She glanced over at Ranma, then back to Vwritlai. "My task on Earth requires that I be Micloned."

"Very well."

Ranma struggled to keep the scowl off his face. Only an idiot would have failed to notice Milia's glance at him. _I keep hopin' I'll get all that obedience crap drilled out of her,_ he mused. _But she still double-checks every action with me._

Worse, he could feel Misa tensing up next to him. She wasn't an idiot, and had caught that glance, just as Ranma had. _But she doesn't know Milia as well as I do...she probably thinks Milia's tryin' ta get into my pants!_

"Well, as much as I would love to chat," said Vwritlai, "I feel I should let you settle in."

"Thank you, Sir," said Misa. She turned, and stalked towards the hatch.

Vwritlai leaned down, head near Ranma, and whispered, "How did I do?"

His whisper was close to a Miclone-scale shout, and Ranma waited until the hatch closed behind the rest of the party. Except Claudia, who leaned back against the hatch, apparently waiting for Ranma.

"Pretty good, Sir."

"Colonel Hayase seems upset about something. Did I say something incorrect?"

Ranma shook his head. "No. She's mad, all right, but not at you." He sighed. "I gotta go talk to her."

Vwritlai nodded, and stepped back. Ranma turned and walked towards Claudia.

"Commander LaSalle." He nodded to her.

"Cut the crap, Ranma," she said with a grin.

"Okay, Claudia." He chuckled, then turned sober. "Listen, can I talk to you for a bit?"

"I think I know what you want to talk about," said Claudia. "And it's about time a LaSalle helped _you_, instead of the other way around. Join me in my quarters."

* * *

"Tea, Ranma?" Claudia held up a bottle. "Or do you feel like you need something a bit stronger?"

"What's 'stronger'?" he asked warily.

"Oh, it's just some white wine," said Claudia. "I always keep a bit in stock for emergencies."

"Ah." He nodded. "And a space mission to an alien battle wagon counts as an emergency?"

"Oh, please." She reached into her purse and pulled out two champagne flutes. "I've seen this coming for almost a year now. Probably longer." She looked down at the flutes and wrinkled her nose. "Not the best choice for a simple white, but I had to keep the bulk down..." She removed the cork and started pouring the wine. "Now then, you and Colonel Hayase seem to be having some problems."

"Tell me," he groused. "I won't play the innocent here; I know that I caused a fair number of problems between me an' Misa when we were dating. But I dunno what to do about the situation now. I like Misa—hell, let's not lie." He sighed. "I love her. But as a couple...we just didn't work. Ya know?"

"You seemed to be getting along all right during the war," observed Claudia. "And that's a lot higher stress than we're under nowadays."

"I pointed that out to her," said Ranma. "But she still said that she didn't want to get back together—"

"She _what?_" Claudia's brows knit in confusion. "But I thought—"

"So did I," said Ranma. "It seems that we both thought wrong."

Claudia sat in thought for a moment, then said, "Why did she say she didn't want to get back together with you?"

"Because we were good friends, and she didn't want to risk our friendship."

Claudia nodded, then asked, "And what do you think the real issue is."

"Milia." There was no hesitation in his voice. "Misa has a bad tendency to run away from issues, an' I think that's what she's doin' in this case."

"You think that _she_ thinks that Milia is a threat to your relationship."

"I _know_ that Milia is a threat to our relationship," said Ranma. "One way or another. I think that Milia's worked out enough of Human culture that she wants to give dating a try. And since I'm her 'Master', she wouldn't consider datin' anyone else."

Claudia raised her eyebrows. "And you don't like Milia?"

"Don't get me wrong," he said quickly. "She's a nice girl, and smart, and—let's face it—she's very attractive. But as long as she keeps this slave mentality, there's no way I can date her. An' she ain't bein' exactly subtle, either. Anyone with half a brain can see that she's interested in me."

"And Misa has considerably more than only half a brain," mused Claudia.

"She sees Milia's attempts clear as daylight, an' it rubs her the wrong way," said Ranma. "They got into it in the _dojo_ the other day, gave each other a medium-sized set of lumps—though Misa took more than Milia. An' I think that if Milia really understood what was buggin' her, Misa would be in traction right now."

"Oh, dear."

"An' on top of that, Misa threw a freak-out fit on me last month over _Minmay_, of all people!" He threw up his hands. "And she's hinted that me an' Nabs are closer than we should be—and Nabs is my _sister!_"

"In-law." Claudia completed the sentence with a smile.

"Still. She's family." Ranma snorted. "I waited until Misa was gone before askin' to talk to ya today because she might start gettin' ideas about _you_. She gets jealous easily."

"And you had those sorts of problems before marrying Akane," observed Claudia.

"Yeah."

"Misa and I had a chat about it after the incident with Minmay."

"I figured."

"She can be very insecure, Ranma," said Claudia. "Don't forget that she's nine years younger than you—nearly ten years. Despite the fact that you look like you're only in your early twenties, you are in fact thirty-four. And she's got a bit of an inferiority complex, as well—patronage only gets you so far in the military; any further, and you have to fight to prove you haven't coasted."

"So what are you saying?" He frowned.

"Simple." Claudia paused to drain her wineglass before continuing. "She looks at you, and sees a demigod. How can she compare to that?"

"But—"

"Milia's a better fighter, and more experienced," continued Claudia. "Minmay's prettier—"

"No, she ain't," objected Ranma.

"Misa will think she is," said Claudia. "Nabiki is much more clever, and closer to your age—older, if I recall correctly."

Ranma nodded.

"So any of those three have more to recommend them—in her eyes—than you do," finished Claudia.

Ranma shrugged. "Yeah...save that I don't love them."

"Have you ever told Misa that you love her?"

Ranma paused, and frowned. "I...no. I haven't."

"Then how would she know?"

* * *

Ranma stepped off the slidewalk, onto the observation deck. Beyond and below this deck, Vwritlai and two of his officers stood on _their_ observation deck, and below them, the work pit of the _Nupetiet-Vernitsz_-class dreadnaught's bridge.

"Commander Saotome, reporting as ordered, Sir."

Vwritlai turned, and nodded to him. "Thank you, Commander. We await two others."

"Yes, Sir."

The Miclone-scale door opened again, and the slidewalk brought Misa and Hikaru towards Ranma. "Commander Vwritlai," said Misa. "Surely we haven't arrived already. We've only been three hours in space fold."

"That is so," said Vwritlai. "It will be four days total before we reach our objective. However, there is something here that warrants our attention."

He turned, and gestured towards the display screen. Centered in the display was a wrecked ship. Misa frowned, and stepped forward. "That looks very familiar, Sir. But it's not an Earth warship, and it doesn't look like any Zentraedi ship I know of."

"It is an Inspection Army dreadnaught," said Vwritlai.

"Were there any survivors?" asked Hikaru.

"There is no atmosphere aboard, no communications running." Exedol was still micloned, and was operating a small-scale sensor system. "However, her powerplants are still operational. I would say that it was very recently destroyed."

Vwritlai frowned. "After the dispersal of the Main Fleet?"

"Yes, My Lord."

Misa considered the wreck for a few more moments, then turned back to Vwritlai. "Sir, I suggest that we conduct a detailed investigation."

"I can't authorize that," said Vwritlai.

"But this is only the second contact between the Inspection Army and Terrans," objected Misa.

Exedol turned from his console. "We have already given you all information that we have on the Inspection Army. Was that not enough?"

"But this is a new source of information!"

Ranma spoke up. "What are the chances that it's trapped, just like _Macross_ was?"

Misa blinked. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Plus, there's the size difference." He frowned. "Commander, you called that a dreadnaught. What would it take, in metal, for your fleet to destroy one of those?"

"Nothing less than a Task Group," said Vwritlai. "Six of our dreadnaughts, twelve cruisers, and assorted screening units."

"So someone out there has sufficient firepower to slap one of those things," said Ranma. "There any other wreckage about?"

"None," said Exedol.

"Then whoever it was didn't lose any ships doin' it." He bit his lip. "Commander, how many ships in your fleet could kill that thing one-on-one?"

"Since the destruction of the Fortress, there is no ship that even comes close," said Vwritlai.

"Misa, I'd have to say that whoever did this is not someone we want to tangle with. An' we don't have any clue who it is, except that it _ain't_ Zentraedi. I think we gotta go with the Commander's assessment on this, an' keep our noses away from the hornet's nest."

Misa nodded her agreement, but he couldn't miss the way her eyes narrowed.

* * *

Four days was a long time to spend in hyperspace without any proper recreational facilities and no real duties. Ranma had brought a couple of books, but had gone through them all by the end of the first day. So when the knock came at his door, he was more than quick to answer it.

"Claudia?"

The young woman's eyes were red-shot, and tears streaked her cheeks. "Ranma. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." He stepped aside, and allowed her into his quarters. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, just bad memories," she said. She wiped at her eyes angrily. "I was stupid enough to go down to the flight deck, and I saw _Skull One_, and...it just hit me all at once."

"Claudia, I doubt it was 'all at once,'" said Ranma. "You've been holding back on your loss for two years now. You've always tried to be the backbone of the entire damn Spacy force." He shrugged. "Any wonder that it got to be too much?"

"I miss him like crazy," she said brokenly. "I thought it'd get easier, but it never does, does it?"

"No," said Ranma softly. "It never does. I still think of Akane every day."

"Tell me a story, Ranma," she said. "Tell me about when you first met Akane."

Ranma laughed. "You mean Nabs hasn't already told you?"

"I couldn't afford that one."

"Oh. Well, sit down," he said. "I'll make the tea this time."

* * *

"So Pops carries me into the house, kickin' and screamin', and dumps me in front of this older guy. He asks my name, but I guess he wasn't usin' his eyes real well, 'cause once he hears it, he grabs me an' hugs me." Ranma had taken the time to douse himself with cold water.

"What's odd about that?"

"Remember it was rainin'?" Ranma snickered, and pointed at her ample chest. "I looked like this at the time, and he called me 'boy.'"

"Oh."

"But once he hugs me, he notices a couple of things that he shouldn't have, and just to make sure, he _squeezes_ me!"

Claudia laughed.

"And then keels over and passes out right on the floor." Ranma paused to sip her tea. "After he wakes up, Dad fills him in on the Jushenkyou thing. But Kasumi had chased me into the bath, an' then sent Akane in for hers—"

"Both at the same time?"

"She _still_ thought I was a girl, an' in Japan, people often bathe together. Especially friends, an' Akane and I were bein' kinda friendly at that point."

"At that point," said Claudia. "But then you went into a hot bath, and—"

"An' Akane walks in on me, an' immediately goes into 'bash-the-pervert' mode." Ranma snorted. "So we told the sisters about Jushenkyou. And then old man Tendo tells me that I still gotta marry one of his daughters. He doesn't care which—can you believe that?"

"He probably wanted you to choose the one you liked."

"How could I like _any_ of them at that point? We'd only just met." Ranma snorted. "But then Kasumi and Nabiki both turn an' volunteer Akane, an' she freaks. We insulted each other for a bit, which ended up with me gettin' brained. Again."

"She can't seem to stop hitting you, can she?"

"Yeah, well, that one I had comin'," she admitted. "But that first day did more or less set the tone for our entire courtship."

"I can see why," she said with a chuckle. "Did I ever tell you how Roy and I met?"

"Yeah," said Ranma. "Way back when we first met, in oh-five."

"Oh." Claudia chuckled. "And you were there for most of our ups and downs after that. I know one story I haven't told you—the first time he asked me out."

"Wasn't that the time he showed up with two other girls?"

Claudia laughed. "Oh, no. He asked me several times before I finally agreed."

"Okay, tell me this one," said Ranma. She kicked her heels up on the coffee table.

"Well, I was assigned at Northern HQ when the Anti-Unification rebellions were just heating up," said Claudia. "It was a liason post, but they were short-handed, so they stuck me doing radio work as well. The Chinese had the latest version of the Flanker, and they sent six of them in just to probe our defenses. I was in contact with an AWACS, who picked them up, so I vectored the CAP to intercept." She chuckled. "Turned out that Roy was the leader of the CAP."

"What were they flying?"

"The U. N. Air Force was operating the F-15 Eagle," said Claudia.

"A Sukhoi 37 will eat one of them for lunch."

"I know," said Claudia. "But Roy had four birds up against their six, and decided he could take them. But then he recognized my voice on the radio." She laughed. "He verified the order, and then said, 'You're quite pretty. Want to go out with me?'"

Ranma giggled. "Sounds just like Roy."

"Well, I didn't know he was going to say anything like _that_, so I had the freq open to the whole tower." She ducked her head in embarassment. "So everyone there heard him. I tried to keep as cool as I could, telling him to keep it professional, when all of a sudden, one of the bandits strafed the runway."

Ranma blinked. "And this was in ninety-six?"

"Yes," said Claudia. "We still don't know why he did it, but the Chinese later said he was acting rogue, and they'd punished him, and they paid some reparations. But at the time, it was pretty damn scary. The strafing run blew up a Hercules on the tarmac.

"Then Roy comes screaming out of the sun, and puts a burst from the gun straight into the cockpit."

_Milia, firing her cannons into his crippled fighter._

Ranma shuddered. _Don't need to be reminded of that right now._

"Then he pulled out of the dive, and buzzes the tower." Claudia had continued on, as if she hadn't noticed his reaction. "And as he passed, he looked out and flashed me a thumbs up." She smiled. "Every day, after that, he was pestering me for a date."

"Until you finally agreed."

"Yes, and that didn't go at all well." She laughed, and looked up at the smaller girl. "But you've heard about that."

"Reminds me of my first real date with Akane," said Ranma. "The other four prospectives showed up to interfere."

"Yes, but you didn't bring them with you!"

"True," she conceded.

"Well, I must thank you, Ranma." Claudia stood up and stretched. "A little girl talk made me feel a lot better."

"Maybe next time, you can find a genuine girl," quipped Ranma.

Claudia laughed. "On this boat? There are exactly three and a half females. Me, Misa, Milia and you. I didn't feel like talking to Misa—she'd just want to talk about you—and Milia knows nothing about girl talk." She shrugged. "That left you, or talking to myself."

* * *

**OMAKE**

The Miclone-scale door opened again, and the slidewalk brought Misa and Hikaru towards Ranma. "Commander Vwritlai," said Misa. "Surely we haven't arrived already. We've only been three hours in space fold."

"That is so," said Vwritlai. "It will be four days total before we reach our objective. However, there is something here that warrants our attention."

He turned, and gestured towards the display screen. Centered in the display was a ship. Misa frowned, and stepped forward. "That looks very familiar, Sir. But it's not an Earth warship, and it doesn't look like any Zentraedi ship I know of."

"My Lord." Exedol turned from his Miclone-scale console. "We are being hailed by the other ship."

"On screen."

The screen cleared, to show...Hayase Misa.

"_This is Commodore Lisa Hayes-Hunter, in command of..._" Her voice trailed off, and her eyes bugged out at the scene in front of her.

Misa cleared her throat, and stepped forwards. "Commodore. This is Colonel Hayase Misa. I think something odd is going on."

"_We had just folded for Tirol, and something went very badly wrong with our space fold drive._"

"Tirol?" Vwritlai looked puzzled. "I am unfamiliar with that system."

"_But it was you, Commander Breetai, who gave us the co-ordinates—_"

"Perhaps we should meet to discuss this," offered Hikaru.

The Commodore's eyes shifted, then widened. "_Rick? What are you doing over there?_"

"Huh?" Hikaru was apparently channeling his English dub character. "Sorry, but I think you've got the wrong guy."

"My Lord!" Exedol blinked at his display. "Incoming space fold."

Commodore Hayes was apparently getting a similar update from one of her own crewmen. "_From the fold signature, it appears to be a Zentraedi warship, on the same scale as a Command Cruiser._"

Space shifted and warped, and the new vessel popped into existence.

"Not Zentraedi. An Inspection Army heavy cruiser!" Vwritlai turned to Exedol. "Set condition alpha throughout the ship."

"My Lord...the cruiser is hailing us." Exedol looked a bit more green than usual. "I think we should accept communication."

"Eh? Very well."

The display screen split, to reveal...another Misa.

"_This is Admiral Lisa Saotome-Hayes, commanding the_ Amaterasu..."

Again, her voice trailed off.

"_Saotome_-Hayes?" Ranma stepped forward. "Don't tell me—"

"_Ranma?_" The look on her face matched that of the Commodore's when she recognized Hikaru.

Hikaru dropped his face into his palm. "Lemme guess...Rick's family name is Hunter."

"I ain't _your_ Ranma," he hastened to say. "I think we got one of those multiple universe things goin' on. _Your_ Ranma, your husband, is still aboard your ship."

"_Husband?_" Now Admiral Saotome-Hayes sounded very confused. "_Ranma is my_ wife."

"...Excuse me?"

"_And the mother of my daughter._"

"Okay, that's just _wrong._"

Admiral Saotome-Hayes bristled. "_Now I am_ certain _that you are not my wife. And I would insist that you speak of Vice Admiral Hayes-Saotome with the respect she is due!"_

"_Vice Admiral_?"

"Incoming spacefold!"

"Another?" Vwritlai sighed. "Who is it this time?"

"Starship of type unknown, power system is completely unknown...and yes, My Lord, they are hailing us."

"On screen."

A three way split this time, and sure enough, another Misa. Or was it Lisa? Ranma was getting confused.

"_This is Admiral Lisa Saotome in command of the..._"

And another trail-off.

"_Ranma! At last, we've found you!_"

Ranma raised his hand. "Not your Ranma."

"_What?_" She glanced over at Vwritlai. "_Commander Breetai! How could you kidnap General Saotome? In fact, how are you even_ here? _I left you on Earth with our children!_"

"Please tell me your Ranma was at least their _father?_"

"_Yes, you are...Wait—what do you mean?_"

"There seems to be some sort of quad-manifest conjugation in the fold matrix, producing a four-way tangent of probability lines," said Exedol. "Or something like that."

"_In English, please?_" Admiral Saotome-Hayes looked confused.

Ranma sighed, then turned to Commodore Hayes-Hunter. "You seem to be the only ship without a Ranma."

"_Oh, no,_" said Commodore Hayes-Hunter. "_Colonel Saotome and his wife Akane are aboard._"

Ranma blinked. "_Colonel_ Saotome. And we got a _Vice Admiral_ Saotome-Hayes, and a _General_ Saotome. Why the heck am _I_ only a friggin' _Commander?_"

"Because the fic isn't done?" offered Hikaru, in flagrant violation of the fourth wall.

Ranma turned to Misa. "Well, that's one vote for Akane and two for you," he said.

"_To tell the truth,_" volunteered Commodore Hayes-Hunter, "_everyone was telling me that_ I _should have married Ranma, instead of Akane._"

Ranma rolled his eyes. "So two and a half votes for you. Seems someone wants us together."

Misa considered this, then said, "Want to hook back up?"

"I don't think we have a lot of choice." He shrugged. "Not that that's news for me."

* * *

**A/N:** The other three Lisas were, in order of appearance, from _Macross One-Half_ by me, _Dragon Lady of Macross_ by Calamity-Queen of Cordite, and _Mirrors Multiplied_ by Jared Ornstead. All Ranma/Macross crossovers (though in _Mirrors_, it's only a couple of chapters...amidst the other hundred or so crossovers). With the exception of Commodore Lisa Hayes-Hunter, they were all used without permission.


	32. Chapter ThirtyOne: Malcontent Uprising

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Thirty-One: Malcontents Rising**

**April 18th, 2012**

The distorted colours faded, and Milia looked up from her console. "Outfold complete, Commander. Total temporal compression two point five to one, relative to galactic average."

"We have visual contact with the Protoculture factory," reported Exedol. He touched a control, and the giant satellite appeared on the screen. Schools of Zentraedi warships patrolled around it, like guppies escorting a whale.

"It's _huge_," breathed Claudia.

"The Protoculture must have been astoundingly powerful to be able to build something like that," said Misa.

"_Recon mission, ready to launch._"

Misa turned back to her board. "Copy that, Skull Squadron. You may deploy."

"Please contact Commander Dagao of the garrison fleet," said Vwritlai.

"Yes, My Lord." Exedol tapped controls on his board.

"What did you have in mind?" asked Misa.

"I was considering asking him to surrender," said Vwritlai. "Knowing his thick skull, however, I doubt he'll do so. Additional persuasion must be applied." He glanced over at Claudia. "Can you please call Commander Saotome to the bridge?"

"Yes, Sir." She touched the allcall. "Commander Saotome, please report to flag bridge for psychological warfare duty."

"Excuse me, Commander Vwritlai." Misa's voice had dropped slightly in temperature. "Why do we need Commander Saotome present?"

"If you recall, at the time that you and Commander Ichigyo broke in to rescue Commander Saotome, myself, Exedol and Bodolze were quite incapacitated."

Misa shuddered. "Yes, I do recall."

"I surmised that the physical contact involved—I believe that you Terrans refer to it as a 'kiss'—could be repeated in order to use as a form of psychological warfare against Dagao."

Misa whirled on Claudia. "Was this your idea?" she hissed.

Claudia raised her hands. "Not I."

"Commander Ichigyo had informed me that Colonel Hayase and Commander Saotome were sufficiently intimate to perform this maneuver," said Exedol.

"Oh, he _did_, did he?"

"Colonel Hayase," said Vwritlai. "Am I to understand that you do _not_ wish to 'kiss' with Commander Saotome?"

"You understand correctly," she said angrily. "To ask someone to do that—as a _weapon_—"

"I shall do it," said Milia.

All the Humans present fell silent, and gaped at her. Milia stood up from her console, and turned to salute Vwritlai—a U. N. Spacy salute, not a Zentraedi salute.

"For the good of the mission, I shall volunteer for this assignment," she said.

"For the _good of the mission—?_"

"Hush, Misa," said Claudia. More quietly, she said, "Don't get your panties in a twist. Remember: she's Zentraedi. If Ranma's lucky, she won't throw up on him."

"But she—"

"You had your chance, Misa."

She realized, suddenly, that Claudia was right on more than one level.

* * *

"_So far, we haven't drawn any fire,_" said Ichigyo. "_I don't think they care that we're here._"

"I suspect that you are correct," said Exedol. "The presence of our warship would cause no concern, and your fighter is too small to be any obvious threat."

"_I'd still feel happier with some backup,_" he admitted. "_But—hey, I think they've decided to sit up and take notice. I got three bandits headed towards me._"

"What sort of units are they?"

"_Gimme a second...okay, I got visuals on all of them. All three are_ Queaddlun-Rau _power armour units._"

"Station defense drones," said Exedol. "You will find that they are not as dangerous as a true Zentraedi female warrior."

"Sir," said Claudia. "I have Dagao on the comms."

"Commander Saotome, reporting as ordered." Ranma stepped off the slidewalk, a water canteen in his hand.

"Excellent timing, Commander. Lieutenant, please put Dagao on the main screen." Vwritlai turned, and addressed the garrison commander.

"Commander Dagao, this is Vwritlai Kridanik, Commander of the Main Fleet. You are ordered to immediately surrender the Protoculture Factory to my control."

Dagao sneered at him. "_We have heard of you, Vwritlai._" The translation matrix was running, allowing the Humans to understand his words, but leaving his speech and the motion of his lips jarringly out of sync. "_We have heard that you rebelled against Bodolze, and that you have become infected with_ culture_."_

Milia stood, and walked over to Ranma, falling in beside him.

"Bodolze has fallen," continued Vwritlai, "and we now have the secrets of the Protoculture. I now lead the Zentraedi people. Surrender to me, as is only right."

"_And if I refuse?_"

"Then we will destroy you."

Dagao laughed. "_You have one ship! Whereas the garrison that I command numbers five hundred vessels. You cannot hope to defeat me._" He paused, noticing Ranma and Milia for the first time. "_A woman...You have a woman and a man together there? How can you_ stand _that?_"

"One of the many benefits of culture, Dagao. Here is another." Vwritlai turned to his aide. "Exedol."

"Yes, My Lord." The gnomish alien tapped a control on his instrument panel...and music flooded the airwaves.

Ranma rolled his eyes. It had been used only once before, and it was already getting old. But the garrison fleet had never been exposed to music before.

"_What is that noise?_" Dagao was supporting himself with both hands on his console. "_It makes me feel sick._"

_I keep tellin' people, Minmay ain't_ that _bad..._

"If that makes you feel unwell, Dagao, then perhaps we have a spectacle for you that would make you feel better. Milia?"

"Huh?" Ranma blinked. _I figured he'd want me to change, to shock them—no, that's right. The Zentraedi have never been bothered by that._ He turned to glance at Milia. "What does he—"

Milia threw her arms around him and kissed him. The suddenness of it left him paralyzed, just long enough for his brain to kick in to what was going on.

_Psych warfare. Like when Max kissed me—bleah—and they all freaked out. So Vwritlai, or more likely Exedol, cooked this up to fry their brains._

If she hadn't taken him by surprise, he might have tossed her on her ass. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her into the kiss. She gasped in surprise, but didn't let go of him. If anything, she held him more tightly, her body pressed up against his, shivering.

He could _feel_ Misa's eyes burning into his back.

He finally released Milia, allowing her to step back. Her balance was unsteady, and there was no way he could miss the dark blush on her features.

_Well, at least I know I still got it._

He turned to Vwritlai. "Anything else?"

"Not at this time, Commander." Vwritlai smiled thinly. "Though I must thank you for accepting this very dangerous mission."

_Dangerous is right. Misa's gonna skin me alive...and Milia don't need that kind of encouragement!_

"Then if you'll excuse me, Commander, I shall launch and accompany the Jolly Rogers when the attack commences." He unscrewed the canteen and dumped it over his head, shifting to female.

"Why are you changing?" Milia frowned. "I thought that your flight suit did not work in your female form."

"Not my Spacy flight suit," she said. "But _Switchblade_ is gettin' too old for front-line battle, and it can't use the FAST packs. Luckily for me, I got a very good plane captain, who made sure I have a spare ride here."

She saluted Vwritlai, the open-handed Zentraedi salute. "So with your permission, My Lord...I have a battle to attend."

* * *

The modified _Queaddlun-Rau_ screamed out of the launch tubes, forming up with the Jolly Rogers. Someone—probably Chief Bell—had repainted the combat robot, in the Skull's black, white and yellow, and the grinning skull and crossbones across the plastron.

_Skull One_ had nearly burned her boosters dry during Hikaru's brief tussle with the base defense drones; he was headed for the barn, to refuel. That left Rossikov, Skull Seven and the Rogers' XO, in temporary command.

"_Commander Saotome. Good to have you with us._"

"Good to be back, Seven."

"_Since our glorious leader ain't here to lead us, I wanna request that you take command._"

Ranma shook her head. "Not a good idea, Seven. Skull Leader left you in command of the Rogers; you gotta stay there until he gets back."

"_Sir—I mean Ma'am—you should have been Skull Leader._"

"Belay that crap, Rossikov," snapped Ranma. "Your commander is Ichigyo Hikaru, and he's a better leader than I am." She grinned. "I just kick ass better."

"_Amen to that._" Hikaru's face appeared in her left MFD. "_All gassed up and ready to go. The Jolly Rogers are at your command._"

"I just said—"

"_Ma'am, you are the senior officer present,_" stated Hikaru formally. "_As such, I report all of Skull Flight present and ready to begin operations. What are your orders?_"

She sighed. "Stand by for primary burn."

"_By your command, My Lady._"

_I am gonna kill Milia._

* * *

Unusually, the battle was almost anticlimactic.

The Zentraedi of the garrison fleet were in disarray. Actually, complete chaos might better describe their condition.

The first salvo from Vwritlai's main gun cracked Dagao's flagship in half. Follow-up volleys from the secondary weapons systems wreaked havoc on smaller vessels. Most of the target ships did not maneuver or return fire.

Perhaps four hundred combat robots of various sorts launched from the fleet. Vwritlai's estimate put their total fleet strength for armoured units close to two thousand, but the music, and the...ah, spectacle...had rendered many of their pilots incapacitated.

And of those who _had_ launched, it seemed that none of them wanted to tangle with a Quadrano. Not even an ersatz Quadrano, in Terran colours.

In seemingly no time at all, Vwritlai's one ship, with its ragtag band of combat robots, had rolled up three hundred times its own weight in metal.

* * *

**April 25th, 2012**

The fold back to Earth space was uneventful, and Admiral Global was brought on board to look over the Protoculture factory. Ranma, Exedol and Misa joined him in the walking inspection.

"As you can see," Exedol said, "the factory is completely automated. To the best of our knowledge, it has been in operation for more than ten thousand of your years."

"That's longer than Earth has had proper civilization," mused Misa.

"The combat robot production lines are mostly fully functional," said Exedol. "We suffered a breakdown, unfortunately, about ten minutes after the space fold. But it was in a _Regult_ production line, and I am not certain that we will need to produce many more of those models."

"And why not?" asked Global.

Exedol cleared his throat. "Well, My Lord—"

"Admiral, if you please."

"My apologies. Admiral." He cleared his throat again. "I cannot see that you will be allowing Zentraedi to serve as soldiers. You conquered us, and—"

"Allow me to make something clear, Minister." Global looked up at a newly finished _Glaug_ as it was lifted from the assembly line. "We did _not_ conquer you. We defeated the attack on our home planet by Bodolze, with the assistance of your people." He turned to look at Exedol. "We consider the Zentraedi to be our equals, not our subjects or our slaves."

"Of course, Admiral."

"That means that you _will_ be permitted to serve in our armed forces."

Ranma stepped forward. "Actually, Sir, if I can put in my thoughts?"

"Eh? Of course, Commander."

"We don't want those pieces of crap in our service." Ranma shook his head. "The _Regult_ is junk. It's the Zentraedi equivelant of the AK-47—not much good, but you can make lots of them fast. It's disposable, and it don't protect the trooper inside worth a damn. If we're gonna treat these people as equals," he concluded, "we gotta give 'em robots that we'd let a _Human_ fly."

Global nodded. "Your point is well made. What would you suggest?"

"I think the _Glaug_ is a much more capable unit, but we can still improve it," said Ranma. "Up-armour the main torso, and install a cockpit for a Miclone-scale person."

"That would require that the pilot be recloned," said Exedol.

Ranma nodded. "Yep."

"Correct me if I am wrong, Commander," said Global, "but didn't you argue against forced recloning?"

"I did," said Ranma. "And I still argue against _forced_ recloning. But any person who joins the armed forces has to voluntarily give up something. For the Zentraedi, it'll be their size." He indicated the _Glaug_ again. "It's the only way we can make a robot that will properly protect them."

"Hm." Global nodded. "That is well thought out, Commander, and we should definitely consider your points. However, the Protoculture factory will be invaluable to us for another purpose."

"And that purpose would be?"

"To build a starfleet," said Global. He turned back to stare again at the production lines. "Of the twelve _Europa_-class missile destroyers we had at the beginning of the war, only _Circe_ remains, and we've seen that the _Europa_ is ineffective against Zentraedi ships. _Macross_ will never fly again. And the Inspection Army is still out there, as well as several Zentraedi fleets that are unaccounted for, and who knows what else."

"You still have Lord Vwritlai's fleet," said Exedol.

"It is not the Human way to rely on anyone for our own defense," said Global. "And while we thank you for assisting us, we will feel better once we can assist ourselves."

Exedol nodded. "I can certainly understand that, and it grieves me therefore to give you some grave news. The factory's shipyards are the worst damaged portion—they have been repeatedly attacked by Inspection Army raids."

"We can fix them."

Exedol blinked. "Humans are very skilled at repairing things, but surely this task is beyond even you. The technology is—"

"We can fix them," repeated Global. "We fixed _Macross_, and we can fix this factory." He glanced over to Exedol. "Humans _never_ give up."

* * *

**May 2nd, 2012**

Ranma's comm chimed, pulling him out of a light sleep. He sat up, rubbed his eyes blearily, and slapped at the Accept button.

"Commander Saotome."

"_Commander, this is Colonel Hayase._"

Business. He sat up a little straighter, despite the fact that his comm was currently on audio only. "Colonel. What's up?"

"_We've had an armed uprising at Trad._"

"Damn." _Now_ he was fully awake. "Trad is over half Zentraedi."

"_Twelve Zentraedi, three of them full sized, broke into the storage facility there and stole the city's recloning chamber. The Rogers stopped them, but they're calling for backup for civil defense._"

"Civil defense, eh?" Ranma frowned. "What are you sending?"

"_We can't move Destroids there fast enough to make a difference," said Misa. "I want to send the Diamondbacks, loaded for CD. And I want you to go there as well._"

"Why me?" asked Ranma. "I'm not part of the Diamondbacks, nor part of the Rogers anymore. Heck, I'm not even on the combat duty roster."

"_We're sending a civilian police force there as well,_" said Misa. "_Your mother has started up the old family firm, and it's her people that are going into harm's way. She requested I send you as military liason._"

"Oh, for the love of—" He stood up, and reached for his tunic. "Misa, I can't tell ya how many regs this breaks—"

"_Like you care about regs._"

"Ha ha. On top of that, there's ethical things, like conflict of interest."

"_You're well known among both the Jolly Rogers and the Diamondbacks, and good friends with their COs,_" countered Misa. "_On top of that, I'm sending a diplomatic team, headed up by Milia and backed by Colonel Tendo for intel support. For the military liason, you make the most sense._"

He groaned. "Fine. I just got back home last night, but..."

"_I've ordered Commander Jenius to pick you up and transport you to the airport,_" said Misa.

* * *

"Can you believe this shit?" Max looked remarkably angry. "I mean, we promised them they'd have unlimited access to the recloning chamber, and they try to swipe it! I mean, they can use it any time they want. Why do something like this?"

"Don't know, Max." Ranma tossed his duffel in the back of the jeep. "And there's no way to know until we get out there."

"It's gotta be some band of Zentraedi," continued Max. He hadn't seemed to hear Ranma at all. "An organized outfit, not just independants. Probably one of the old Officer caste. Or maybe Exedol's right, and war's all they're good for—"

"I don't believe that." Ranma fastened his seat belt. "Milia's doin' real well in the Diplomatic Corps, and Exedol's hardly a warrior."

"And they're both Officer caste," pointed out Max. "What about the rank and file?" He stomped the accelerator, and the jeep peeled out at about two gees. "What if there's some Officer out there who decided to keep on fighting? All he's got to do is give the orders, and the Soldier caste will snap to and obey."

"You're starting to repeat yourself." He sighed. "Wish I was flying combat on this mission, instead of being a REMF."

"Well, Global mustered out the rest of the Jolly Rogers, in addition to us Snakes," said Max. "So we'll have thirty-six Valks on station, plus civilian police, CDU Destroids and a few full-size Zentraedi."

"That's good news, at least," allowed Ranma.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, then Max asked, "How's your sister?"

"_Nabiki_ is doin' just dandy," said Ranma dryly.

Max chuckled.

* * *

It was to be the first time that Ranma had ridden in an airplane without being the driver in seven years, and he abruptly realized that he was _not_ looking forward to it. The flight attendant showed him to his seat, and he dropped into it, and glanced upward. The VC-40 was well appointed, with several comfortable chairs, but it didn't feel right to not see the yellow and black ejector handles above his head.

"Hey, Ranma!"

He glanced up, to see Minmay standing over him. "Hi, Minmay. I think you're on the wrong—" He broke off as he realized that she was wearing a dark blue uniform. "Waitaminute. You're a _cop?_"

"In training," said Minmay. "But so is everyone else in Tennasaono. Mom's sending us out with the two old hands we have for practice. She thinks it's going to be a nice, safe mission...but if it was, why would they be sending you?"

"Well, I—wait, again. 'Mom?'"

"Saotome-san. Your mother. But she told me to call her Mom."

"_She did?_"

"Yes, silly. Remember? Back when I first met her."

_Now_ he saw the twinkle in her eyes, and realized that he'd been had. She giggled, and sat down next to him.

"Nabiki's coming out with us as well, but she gets the really nice chairs up front, along with Milia."

"So I've heard," he said. "How long have you worked for Mom?"

"Just a bit under two months," said Minmay. "Like I said, we're still in training, but Nabiki told us that for this mission, we're to comport ourselves as proper police officers, because we'll be doing the job."

Ranma nodded. "And Nabs is in charge of your deployment?"

"Oh, no." Minmay shook her head. "Nabiki officially left the company, because she'd be in conflict of interest, because Spacy Intel has retained Tennasaono. So Captain Peters is in charge, and we answer to you."

"An' it never occurred to whoever put this circus together that _I_ might be in conflict of interest?" Ranma sighed. "At least I don't _work_ for Tennasaono."

"We could use you," said Minmay. "If ever you get bored of flying, and decide to _work_ for a living."

Ranma stuck his tongue out at her.

"Or we might try recruiting Milia. Your mother seems quite taken with her, by the way."

"This I need."

"What's the matter?" Minmay frowned. "Don't you like her?"

"It ain't that I don't like her," said Ranma. "But I highly doubt that Mom wants to recruit her for the company, and I don't want her tryin' ta marry me off again."

"Oh."

He sighed. _Probably just as well that Milia's up front, if Mom's been talkin' with her. The last thing she needs is yet_ more _encouragement. As it is, I got stuck sittin' next to Minmay. Though at least_ she _ain't actively hittin' on me..._

"Oh, and look what they gave me, Ranma. Handcuffs!"

_...Why me?_

The airplane hadn't even started to taxi yet, and Ranma was already looking forward to the landing.

* * *

The flight attendant stepped towards Nabiki and raised his hands. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but the seatbelt light—"

Nabiki fixed him with a cold stare. "I am quite aware of the seatbelt light, _Corporal._" She waited until the flight attendant wilted out of her way, then walked down to Ranma and Minmay. The nose-down attitude of the airplane forced her to hang on to seat backs as she made her way down the center aisle.

"Bad news, Ranma," she said. "They didn't wait for us to get there before starting the party."

"Damn," said Ranma. He frowned. "How bad is it?"

"Just civil disobedience at this point," said Nabiki. "We don't have any hard facts, but I want to deploy the Diamondbacks straight into the city."

Ranma nodded. "You got a VHF sender on you?"

"No. You'll have to come forward to the cockpit."

He nodded again, and stood. "Okay, let's go."

The rear section of the airplane was filled with Tennasaono's neo-cops, and the VIP section had only six seats, all but one of which were filled. The one empty was Nabiki's, of course, and he also saw Captain Arnleifdottir, of Intelligence, Milia, and three other diplomatic types, one of them probably Zentraedi. He moved past them, and into the crew area, then through that into the cockpit.

The VC-40 had five seats in the cockpit, with a usual crew of four—the fifth seat was for an observer, and was located next to the communications technician. He seated himself there, and the commo tech handed him a headset. He settled it on his head with a nod of thanks, then quickly scanned the clipboard on the console, until he found the Snakes' command channel.

"Commander Saotome to Snake Flight."

"_Snake One, Saotome. Go ahead."_

"Saotome, Snake. We have had a request for Snake to deploy straight into the city to support Skull. I am so ordering. Remember that this is a CD action; ROE level five."

"_Snake One, Saotome. Acknowledged._" Rules of Engagement level five allowed Max to take offensive action only if under sustained and deadly attack.

"Buster, Snake." He closed the channel, and handed the headset back to the commo tech. He stood, and worked his way back through the airplane.

Nabiki had displaced one of the minor diplomats, and waved him towards the seat. He sat down, buckled his seatbelt, and scowled.

"What do you know about the unrest, Nabs?"

"Don't call me that," she snapped. "I think Skull Leader overstepped his bounds, trying to remove the recloning chamber from Trad. On the other hand, he's the senior officer on station, and he was acting in what he probably felt was the best interest of the people of Trad."

"Overstepped or not, I think we have to back him," said Ranma. "It'll be up to Milia and her gang of silk merchants to smooth it over."

"'Silk merchants?'" Milia looked confused.

"Sorry, Milia. Slang for diplomat." He turned back to Nabiki. "How fast can we reach the site after touchdown?"

"We've got a bus and two jeeps standing by at the airstrip," said Nabiki. "We can be rolling five minutes after this bird touches down, and on site ten minutes after that."

"Fifteen minutes is too long," mused Ranma. "Things can get very ugly very quickly, and Max might be forced to fight back." He shook his head. "We need a diplomat on site as soon as possible."

"Fifteen minutes _is_ as fast as possible," objected Nabiki.

"No, it ain't," he said. He turned to the VIP section's flight attendant. "I want the forward door cracked once this bird gets under fifty klicks."

"That's against regulations—"

"Sergeant," said Ranma slowly. "Do you know who I am? Never mind my rank; do you recognize _me?_"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then you know that I don't give a damn about regulations." He sighed. "Tell the pilot I pulled rank on you."

"Yes, Sir." The sergeant looked notably relieved. Ranma turned to Milia.

"Time to put your martial arts training to good use, Student."

"Yes, Master."

* * *

The hatch opened, and Ranma and Milia jumped down from the still rolling plane. They ran across the dirt taxiway, past the waiting jeeps, and into the city.

Ranma noted that the buildings in Trad were typically three to five stories tall; there were very few private residences, and most of those were for the full-sized Zentraedi population. And like most post-Holocaust towns, it was rather poorly laid out, denying them a straight run to where the Valkyries were standing.

"How high can you jump, Milia?"

"One, perhaps one and a half meters, Master."

"Not good enough." He slowed just enough to get behind her, and scooped her up. And then gathered his _ki_ and leaped.

The first building was a two-storey apartment building; he alighted on the roof, and leaped from there to the roof of a four-storey-tall Zentraedi house. From there, the buildings varied up or down by as much as fifteen feet, but for Ranma, it might as well have been a flat, paved road.

Like almost every other person he'd carried across the rooftops, Milia was frozen between exhilaration and panic. Her panic soon faded, however; Milia's threshold for fear was considerably higher than any mere Human's.

From the moment they leapt from the airplane to the point they stopped, overlooking the chaos below, was six minutes.

Ranma quickly noted the locations of all full-size Zentraedi present. There were ten of them, mostly looking on with varying levels of interest and confusion. Only one seemed actively hostile towards the Valkyrie forces, and he was confining himself to jeers and taunts. Thus far.

The humans were harder to read from ten meters above the crowd, but Ranma's heart fell as he heard them start to chant.

"Go home...go home...go home..."

"This could get real ugly, real fast." He knelt at the edge of the building, straining his eyes to try to pick out the ringleader—there _had_ to be one.

"I don't think it needs to," said Milia softly. Then more loudly, to one of the Zentraedi: "You! Recognize me."

The Zentraedi turned to face her, and blinked. "You're Milia Parino, Assault Leader. What are you doing up there?"

"Attempting to salvage something from this debacle. Assist me down to the street."

The Zentraedi reacted instantly. He placed his hand to the edge of the building, and Ranma and Milia stepped onto it. He then lowered them to street level, and they hopped to the pavement.

Ranma waved to the man. "Thank you!"

Milia, on the other hand, ignored him thereafter. Instead, she strode forward, towards the recloning chamber.

Ichigyo Hikaru was present, dismounted from _Skull One_ and trying to keep the protest from escalating into violence. He turned as they approached.

"Milia! And Ranma. Man, am I glad to see you two."

"Commander Ichigyo." Milia nodded, then turned to face the crowd.

"Please feel free to correct me if I am wrong," she said. "The grievance that you have is that the recloning chamber is being removed from this city. Is that correct?"

"That's exactly the problem."

The person who had spoken stepped forward, and Ranma gritted his teeth. _Just when I thought I'd seen the last of that rat bastard..._

Ling Kaifunn gestured towards the Valkyries. "Note that they bring in combat machines in job lots to enforce their will against the people of this city."

"Now that's a dirty lie," yelled Hikaru. "Our only concern is the safety of the people. And that means protecting the recloning chamber from the malcontents."

"The right to choose their size is inherent for every Zentraedi," said Kaifunn. "And for you to—"

"Shut up."

Milia's voice brooked no argument, and Kaifunn's mouth dropped open. Milia turned to face the crowd again.

"You have my promise: the recloning chamber will be returned here the very instant that I am satisfied with arrangements for its security. Arrangements that the city of Trad will choose and implement."

The word of a female Zentraedi officer was still holy writ to the rank and file Zentraedi; most of them nodded, looking pleased. The crowd started to break up.

Of course, the Humans in the crowd were definitely looking a bit more willing to disbelieve. Especially one.

"You're just a soldier yourself," sneered Kaifunn. "Why should we trust you to keep your word?"

Milia seemed suddenly taken aback by that. The very thought that her word might be disbelieved was alien to her. Ranma stepped forward.

"Milia's not a soldier; she's a diplomat. Say what you mean, Ling. You don't trust her because she's Zentraedi."

Kaifunn darkened. "You are seriously starting to get on my nerves, soldier boy."

"So?" Ranma shrugged. "Ain't much you can do about it. Unless you want another beat-down like the last one I gave you?"

Kaifunn roared, and charged forward, leading with a strong right cross. Ranma dodged it, but did not counterattack. Instead, he merely stepped a meter or so away, his stance unchanged.

Kaifunn attacked again, and again, Ranma dodged. He continued to lead Kaifunn, always avoiding his attacks, drawing him away from the crowd.

The first jeep pulled up, and Nabiki hopped out and ran over to Milia. "Oh, great. He's started a fight."

"Kaifunn threw the first punch," said Milia. "How did you get here so fast?"

"Seems jeeps get as much a boost out of invective as they would from nitrous oxide," quipped Nabiki. "What is Ranma _doing?_ It looks like he's just playing with—Oh, my God."

Milia frowned. "What?"

"You've never seen him do this, have you? It makes what he hit you with in the park look like a love tap." She grinned. "Grab ahold of something."

Milia's frown deepened. "What is he doing?"

"He's leading Kaifunn down the spiral step, and when they reach the center..."

"_Hiryuu Shouten Ha!_"

A sudden blast of wind engulfed them. Debris pelted their faces, and Milia saw a car, too close to the center of the blast, flipped over by the wind. From the center, where Ranma and Kaifunn had been locked in combat, she saw a whirlwind forming, sucking dust and debris up and throwing it skyward.

A few seconds later, the whirlwind dissipated, and only Ranma remained in the center.

Nabiki clicked her tongue. "I do hope that Kaifunn is as good as Minmay told me. Otherwise, the landing might be fatal."

"Where did he go?"

"Sucked up in the whirlwind, and tossed halfway to the horizon, I imagine."

Milia remembered something she'd heard Nabiki say, more than two years ago. "_I have personally seen him perform even more stunning feats, including the creation of tornadoes and the ability to turn invisible._"

_It seems that Master Saotome is even more powerful than I thought._


	33. Chapter ThirtyTwo: Parting of the Ways

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Thirty-Two: The Parting Of The Ways**

**May 2nd, 2012**

"The point I'm trying to make," said Max, "is that the Malcontents are a serious danger to people, and the Service is doing _nothing_ to reduce that danger."

"There isn't a hell of a lot we _can_ do about them," countered Ranma. "In the meantime, we've got the recloning chamber under wraps, and the Skull posted at Trad for security. Milia's smoothing over the ruffled feathers—"

"And it's only a matter of time before the Zentraedi try stealing the chamber again," said Max. "Except that they won't know where it is. How much damage could they do before they're stopped?"

"Well, what the hell are we expected to do?" asked Ranma. "Round up all the Zentraedi, put 'em in detainment camps, and force them to reclone?"

"No." Max shook his head. "There are plenty of Zentraedi who are innocent, who really want to live out their lives in peace. It's the ones who—"

"Problem is, Max, we can't see inside their heads," said Ranma. "So until they do something stupid, all we can do is wait. I believe the technical term for it is, 'innocent until proven guilty.'"

Max sighed. "Well, I don't envy you this mission. Being at Colonel Tendo's beck and call—"

"Actually, according to the official TO&E, she's at _my_ beck and call." He snorted. "However well _that_ will work out in the end.

* * *

Luckily, her mission had gotten off the ground in the wee hours of the morning. By lunchtime, Milia had managed to iron out the basic plan for the security of the recloning chamber. So it was with a deep feeling of satisfaction that she sat down opposite Nabiki for a well-earned break.

"The biggest problem," she said, "is that Trad wants a Cat's Eye AWACS on station at all times."

"They don't ask for much, do they?" said Nabiki sourly. "We don't have a hell of a lot of those birds, and keeping one on station means detaching five for this mission alone."

"The U. N. Spacy has control over only two recloning chambers," said Milia. "The other is emplaced within _Macross_, which is orbited by AWACS at all times. Certainly, for such an important piece of equipment, sufficient protection should be made available."

"What about ground forces?" asked Nabiki. "I've already been on the horn with General Alvaro. He's willing to base Third Cav out of here. That's thirty-six Destroids, including one Monster."

"An entire Cavalry company to guard a single recloning chamber?" Even to Milia, that sounded excessive.

"Not exactly," admitted Nabiki. "Third would be establishing a fortification. Standard training, maintenance and staging base, probably six kilometers north of here. But even for a Tomahawk, that means they can reach Trad in ten minutes. And Alvaro is putting Rabel in command, and she understands the need for civil defense units. Probably, they'd have six Destroids on station within Trad at most times."

Milia nodded. "That would be within the parameters of the mission."

"Anyway, I've sent the Jolly Rogers back to Macross City, but the Diamondbacks are still here, until we get the heavy metal moved up." She bit her lip. "Commander Saotome had some strong words with me about tying up our best Valkyrie squadron, but—"

"His combat experience is superior to your own," broke in Milia. "You should have heeded his advice."

"_If_ you would let me finish my sentence before leaping to defend your 'Master'," snapped Nabiki. "He agreed that a Valkyrie squadron was needed for security, and _I_ agreed that the Jolly Rogers should be released. We don't need the best here, but the Diamondbacks are probably the second-best Valkyrie team. Plus it gets Hikaru's face out of the limelight."

Milia nodded.

"Plus, it's only for two weeks at the outside, and given a Valkyrie's speed advantage, they can still serve as fast reaction units anywhere in their flight radius. Which is considerable."

Milia nodded again. "So the physical security of the recloning chamber is settled. Next, the Trad city council is concerned about civilian access to—"

The explosion was some distance off, but the overpressure wave still shattered the windows of the little cafe, showering them with bits of glass. Milia jumped to her feet.

"Another attack!"

Nabiki stood up, wiping the blood from a small cut from her cheek. "Who the hell would be stupid enough to try this twice in one day?"

Milia glanced out the window, and saw the _Glaug_ combat pod. The one with the red and white livery. And she knew _exactly_ who was behind the attacks.

* * *

"Snake Bravo, Snake Lead. Shift west two kilometers and put some suppressing fire on those artillery pods."

"Lead, Bravo Three. Wilco."

Max cursed, and pulled _Falconeur_ through a high-gee turn. He haloed one of the attacking _Regult_ battle pods and put a twenty-round burst from the gun pod into it. He shifted to GERWALK, sliding down into the street, and spotted the _Glaug_.

_That clown is probably the one leading this attack...but where the hell did he get_ that _thing?_

Though still relatively fragile compared to the Valkyrie, a _Glaug_ had greater mobility on the ground, and much heavier firepower. It turned, and fired off a missile. Max haloed it, blew it to hell with the LASER turret, and opened up with the GU-11. The _Glaug_ turned, deflecting the shells off its armoured carapace, and returned fire with its particle cannons. Max broke off his run, scrabbling for altitude and shifting back to Fighter mode.

_All right, fine. The gun can't really hurt it. But let's see how he likes a spread of missiles—_

He cursed as he remembered that all of his missiles were CD gas warheads. And the _Glaug_ was airtight.

_Fine. I've still got options._

He dived towards the Glaug again, firing the main LASER cannons. Two hits burned holes in the robot's armour, and he followed it up with a spread of missiles as he broke off.

_Maybe if he's busy trying to shoot down missiles—_

He cursed as he saw contrails rising towards him. The _Glaug_ had fired off two missiles of its own. He reconfigured again, to Soldier Mode, and spun in mid-air, bringing the GU-11 to bear. He shot down first one missile, then the other, then reconfigured again to GERWALK and dropped down towards the city street.

The _Glaug_ took off at a dead run, weaving between buildings, and he cursed again. _Goddamn thing is faster on the ground than it has any right being._

He turned a corner...and stopped.

Sixteen _Regult_ battle pods and four _Nousjadeul-Ger_ powered armour units were waiting for him.

_Where the hell did they get all this metal?_

He stomped left rudder, slewing the Valkyrie around, and jerked the trigger several times. Six battle pods went down under his fire, and he fired off the rest of his missiles to try to keep them busy as he once again clawed for altitude. Massed particle beams flew around either side of his ship as he yanked the pole, trying to find cover.

"_Snake Lead, Charlie. We're getting hammered over here. They've got five female powered armour—_"

_What?_

"_—and they're tearing us up._"

"Roger, Charlie." He cursed; without proper warheads, his Snakes were getting eaten alive. He turned and dove towards the small knot of battle pods, hammering away with every gun on his ship, then reconfigured to Soldier Mode before slamming foot-first into the last standing unit—a powered armour unit. He checked his ammo counter, and cursed yet again, then discarded the now-empty gun pod.

_Why the_ fuck _didn't Saotome order us to carry at least a_ few _live rounds?_

The fact that it had been Colonel Hayase, not Saotome, who had ordered his loadout was forgotten. He flipped the _Nousjadeul-Ger_ that he'd just drop-kicked over, and quickly dismounted its particle cannon. They'd learned that this weapon was independantly powered, and could be used—albeit clumsily—by a Soldier-Mode Valkyrie. It would tie him to the ground, but—

A _Queaddlun-Rau_ leaped into the air above him, and he turned and jetted backwards. He needed thirty more seconds to modify the particle gun, and the Zentraedi was obviously not going to give him that time. _Out of ammo, can't use the LASERs— He charged forwards, grappling the Queaddlun-Rau_, but it merely opened up with its chest-mounted autocannon, causing _Falconeur's_ ablative armour to flake off in massive chunks.

_Can't take this for long—_

The world turned white for a second, and Max shook his head to clear the glare from his eyes. The _Queaddlun-Rau_ had become inert, and he threw it off, then glanced around.

From the top of a nearby building, Saotome Ranma waved at him, then leaped back off into the fray.

_What the hell did he_ do _to it?_

He didn't have time to ponder it; he turned his attention back to the particle cannon.

* * *

"All enemy forces are in retreat."

Ranma nodded, and sighed. "This was obviously _not_ an impromptu attack. They were too well-equipped, they had a plan, and there were a hell of a lot of them."

Nabiki nodded. "I agree. Furthermore, all the male-type combat robots had the same unit insignia, according to the surviving Snakes."

"How many of them are there?"

"Five."

Ranma winced. The Diamondbacks had been well and truly mauled in this battle. Mostly because they were underequipped.

_Of course, nobody expected an attack of this nature. Why didn't we? Who screwed up?_

"This is all my fault," said Nabiki bitterly. "I should have expected that the Zentraedi Malcontents would organize. They come from a military society, dammit!"

Ranma shook his head. "No. Even a well-organized force of Malcontents would not have been this dangerous. For one thing, they wouldn't have had so many combat robots. Did we see _any_ infantry?"

"No."

"Then this was probably a Renegade faction, not Malcontents." He bit his lip. "And that's one hell of a lot more dangerous to us."

"If they're Renegades, why did they wait so long before showing themselves?" asked Nabiki. "They could have hit us any time before now, and we'd have been much less able to defend against it."

"They want the recloning chamber," said Ranma.

Something seemed to click in Nabiki's mind. "Right. Until the last two months, there hasn't been one whose location was widely known. But Trad made no secret of its existence."

"And the Renegades might be filling out their numbers with Malcontents, many of whom are currently Micloned."

"We don't have the HUMINT resources among the Zentraedi that we need," said Nabiki. "We need to fix that, fast. Where's Milia?"

"Thought she was with you," said Ranma.

"She was, but she went to check on the recloning chamber," said Nabiki. "The last radio message I have from her, she'd confirmed it was secure, then went looking for you."

Ranma flipped open his wrist radio. "Milia Fallyna. Please report."

There was no reply.

"Milia, this is Commander Saotome. Please report."

Still nothing.

Ranma sighed. "Her radio might be damaged." He flipped his wrist radio shut again. "Or she might be injured, or even killed in the fighting. But I ain't gonna count her out just yet. Can we organize a search party?"

* * *

Kim Kabriov blinked, and adjusted her instruments. Then turned to Claudia.

"Lieutenant? I've got something here I think you need to hear. It's on Zentraedi Tactical Communications channel Theta."

"Oh?" Claudia walked over to the enlisted tech's station. "Put it on screen."

Kim flipped a switch, and the face of a Zentraedi appeared. From the odd resonance in his voice, she could tell that he was full-sized.

"_...in five hundred_ mil_. And the fate of all those who would rebel against the lawful authority of the Zentraedi Imperative will be made plain. Should the guilt of Assault Leader Parino be proven, she will be executed for her crimes against the Zentraedi people. Please attend carefully."_

The screen went dark.

Claudia bit her lip. "What did I miss?"

"They captured her at Trad, according to that man," said Kim. "And they're putting her on trial, 'according to the customs of the Miclones she obviously has chosen to emulate,' as he put it."

"I highly doubt it will be a fair trial," said Claudia acidly. "Contact Colonel Tendo."

* * *

Ranma was in a rare fury. "We have to do something to stop him. Call back the Jolly Rogers, and get someone to fly _Hawkwing_ up here. Contact—"

"Calm down, Saotome," snapped Nabiki. "We're three steps ahead of you already. _Hawkwing_ is on its way, and so is both the Jolly Rogers and the Gunfighters. Plus, we've got half a dozen volunteers from Trad—"

"This isn't a place for civilian interference," he snarled.

"The volunteers are full-size Zentraedi," said Nabiki. "Colonel Hayase has come up with a rescue plan that will need the help of some of the volunteers."

"Misa?"

"She's on her way here as well," said Nabiki. "She'll be co-ordinating the rescue mission."

* * *

Forty Valkyries and two transport aircraft had overloaded the airstrip's capacity by a significant amount, and most of the Valkyries crouched, vulture-like, near the hangars. The understrength tech teams worked feverishly, loading weapons and testing components.

One of the hangars had been converted into a temporary command post. Misa was going over the mission brief.

"We don't have time to bring up any Destroids, so the Gunslingers and the Jolly Rogers will be under heavy fire. Once the retrieval signal is sent, you are to break off and retreat. Is that clear, Commander Ichigyo?"

"Understood," said Hikaru.

"And Commander Simmons?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Simmons was a cheerful, bloodthirsty pirate—or at least, that was his public _persona_—but that was laid aside in place of steady professionalism.

"That covers the diversion. Now, for the extraction itself. The remaining Diamondback forces will—"

"Excuse me, Ma'am." Ranma stood up, bracing himself to attention. "Commander Saotome requests permission to make extraction."

She shook her head. She'd seen this coming. "No, Mr. Saotome. Commander Jenius' airplane is an S-type, whereas your jet is a J-type. The S-type is more capable."

"Begging the Colonel's pardon, but _Hawkwing_ is a Block Four Jaybird, whereas _Falconeur_ is a Block One Super. And _Falconeur_ is without augmentation packages. Without augmentations, a Block One Super is inferior to a Block Four Jaybird."

Misa considered this, then said, "You are correct. Very well. I shall place Commander Jenius temporarily in command of the Jolly Rogers, and Commander Ichigyo will lead the extraction team."

Ranma was visibly grinding his teeth. "Ma'am—"

"Commander, I understand why you wish to lead this mission." _And I really wish I didn't._ "But you know as well as I do that U. N. Spacy protocol does not permit an officer with a personal attachment to a hostage take part in a hostage-rescue mission."

"Then why did you order _Hawkwing_ to the front?"

She blinked at his tone. "I had intended to use _Hawkwing_ in the diversion."

"That would still be a violation of the same protocol," said Ranma. She could tell that he was seething in rage, but that was just one more reason to keep him out of this mission. "Furthermore, _Hawkwing_ was fitted with the SACS—" He referred to the Space Augmentation Combat System. "—which is not in sync with your proposed use of the ship."

She had no answer for that.

"None of the other Valkyries on the distraction mission are equipped with SACS," he continued. "In atmosphere, SACS is almost a liability. Only the extra missile load makes it break even. So why drag all those extra tubes out here if not to use them where they'd do the most good?"

"The aircraft loadout was assigned by your plane captain, Commander," said Misa. "I have to find the best use for it to—"

"The best use for it," he interrupted, "would be to carry out the extraction mission."

"Commander Saotome, the only way that _Hawkwing_ will be flying the extraction mission will be with an officer other than yourself in the cockpit." She hated the cold way that she had to deliver the order, but nothing else was working. "Commander Ichigyo, since you have the superior airplane, you will fly the extraction mission. Commander Saotome, you will take overall command of the distraction portion of the mission."

He opened his mouth to argue further, but she cut him off with a cold glare.

"My order is final."

* * *

"Look at you, Milia."

Lap'Lamiz sneered down at her Micloned prisoner. Milia was imprisoned in a cage fashioned from Zentraedi-scale eating implements, a plate balanced on top to prevent her from merely leaping out of it.

"You stand there nearly naked, practically advertising your weaknesses to the world. Have you sunk so far into Miclone corruption?"

Milia glanced down at her attire. The pale blue blouse was quite thin, and was not overly low-cut—though considerably more than the high-necked Zentraedi tunic her jailer wore. Her slacks were also rather thin, but were still full-length. Overall, she felt that she was hardly 'nearly naked', but from the Zentraedi viewpoint, she was quite underdressed.

She hadn't realized until this moment how little she noticed anymore.

"The old ways are gone," she said. "At this juncture, the Zentraedi must adapt, or become obsolete."

"The old ways are _not_ gone," snapped Lap'Lamiz. "We have been preserving them, while you and the other traitors have turned your back on us. You have led the Miclones' assault on our ways, spreading contamination behind you."

Considering the ardour with which Lap'Lamiz had greeted her captor, Milia doubted very much that she remained uncontaminated.

"Your desire for power has clouded your judgement," she said.

"Power?" Lap'Lamiz shook her head. "Oh, how poorly you understand me, Milia. I do not hunger for power, or for glory. My only goal is to leave this miserable planet."

"Then why take part in this charade?"

"Because _he_ wills it," she said. "And until the time comes for us to leave, I must have my allies. What is that Miclone saying? Expediency makes for strange bedfellows."

It was the emphasis on the final word that filled Milia with dread.

Lap'Lamiz smiled. "Miclone culture does have its high points, doesn't it?"

Milia shuddered. _Her Zentraedi conditioning is almost certainly destroyed, and she's had no proper guidance while it came apart. Which means that she's gone completely insane._

* * *

"Ranma."

He turned, and glared at Misa coldly. "Yes, Colonel."

"Oh, fucking _relax_, Ranma." She sighed. "Look, believe me, I know why you want to fly this mission."

"No, I don't think you do, Misa."

"She's your student, and your friend," countered Misa. "And I know you'll move heaven and earth for a friend."

"It ain't just that." He set down his clipboard. "Look, Dr. Wood put her in my care, okay? She ain't just my student, or my friend. She's my responsibility."

"She's a grown woman."

"No, she ain't," insisted Ranma. "We _still_ don't know how old she is physically, but mentally, she's not much more than ten years old. That freaked-up excuse for a society they had doesn't give them _room_ to grow. The only reason why Vwritlai is as sane as he is is because he's almost two hundred years old!"

"So you look at her as a child?"

Ranma threw up his hands. "Look, I wanna speak frankly here, okay?"

"Off the record and forgetting rank," agreed Misa.

"I know you're jealous of her."

She bit back a retort. "I am, yes. I know it's stupid of me, but I can't help how I feel."

"I said we could hook back up—"

"But you didn't say it was what _you_ wanted," said Misa. "And that's why I refused." She looked down. "But it's so _hard_, Ranma. I remember what we had, when it was good, and I..." She glanced back up at him sadly. "I still kick myself every day for the things I said to you, the day we broke up. And it _hurts_ to see you with another woman. And to see her throwing herself at you so blatantly—"

"She ain't exactly bein' subtle, is she?" agreed Ranma. "But the fact is, I'm _not_ interested in her."

"I know you better than that, Ranma." She took a step closer to him. "You talk about her as though she were a daughter, but when you look at her—"

"Misa, don't." He raised a hand. "Look, I'll admit I like her, a lot. She an' I are alike in so many ways. But I don't love her, and I doubt I ever could."

"You _do_ love her," corrected Misa. "You've proven that often enough. But not the way she wants."

Ranma shook his head. "She's so goddamned starved for affection she'll take anything she can get. An' she wants _more_. But I _can't_ give her what she wants, because it would be a violation of our trust."

"Whose?"

"Mine and Dr. Wood's," said Ranma. "She placed Milia in my care. Mine and Milia's, because I swore to her that her life was her own. Mine and yours, because I still love you."

Her heart leaped to hear him say it at last, even if it was far too late. "And I still love you. But you have to know that you and I would never work out. And you shouldn't be lonely just because you don't want to hurt me."

"I'm used to bein' lonely," he admitted. "An' even with you sayin' that, there's lots of other reasons why I gotta keep her at arms' length."

"You've already used up those reasons," said Misa. "She's her own woman, now, and much as I hate to say it, she's decided that you're the one for her."

"Like a friggin' Amazon," muttered Ranma.

"At least she doesn't turn into a cat," said Misa with a smile.

"I don't get it, Misa," said Ranma. "You've been actin' all jealous over Milia, and here you are, now, tryin' to convince me to go out with her. Why?"

"Partially because I want you to be happy, even if it hurts me," said Misa. "But mostly because I'm tired of feeling like a jealous bitch all the time." She sighed. "I didn't deny you the lead in this mission just to be catty, Ranma. We need someone who can go into this objectively."

"Max can't do it, then." Ranma chuckled. "He's way more hung up on Milia than I am."

"He is?" Misa's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I had no idea."

"That's because you didn't work every day with the guy for half a year," said Ranma. "Granted, I don't know if he's as bad as he _was_, but he was pretty goddamned bad."

"Then it's a good thing that Hikaru's flying the extraction mission."

"Hikaru, is it?" Ranma grinned. "You know, you two are gettin' along a hell of a lot better than you used to."

Misa laughed. "Don't even start, Saotome!"

"Turnabout's fair play," he said. "If you're tryin' ta hook me up with Milia—"

"I am _not!_" she said. "I'm just trying to get you to stop lying to yourself."

He shrugged. "I've never lied to myself," he said. "I just don't think I need any more complications in my personal life." He picked up the clipboard. "An' as nice as this chat has been, I really gotta get my plane pre-flighted."

"We'll pick this back up after your mission," promised Misa. She returned his lazy salute, and turned to walk back to the command post.

_Never lied to yourself, my ass. The only person on the planet who does that more often is...me._

* * *

The Zentraedi knelt next to the commo device. "It's been a few years since I've operated this equipment, Commander. But I think I can remember how."

"Just like riding a bicycle," said Ranma.

The Zentraedi scowled. "They don't make bicycles in my size." But he remained focused on setting the controls. "Okay, I've got it set up. Frequency Alpha is reserved for emergency communications. Should we start now?"

Ranma shook his head, then realized that the Zentraedi wouldn't be able to see him doing it, as Ranma was currently in his Soldier-mode Valkyrie. "Not yet. We have to wait for the kidnappers to start their broadcast."

The Zentraedi nodded, and pulled out an oversized cigarette. It was one Human habit that Ranma did not approve of the Zentraedi adopting, but unfortunately, some few among them had done so. The big fellow searched through his pockets, but evidently had not brought along any means of lighting the cigarette.

"Let me get that for you." Ranma rotated his LASER head turrets down, and fired a shot across the cigarette's tip.

* * *

"_Soldiers of the Zentraedi, please attend carefully._"

"Receiving."

Claudia adjusted her instruments. "Working a bearing...two eight three point six."

Misa picked up the telephone headset—to reduce the chance of signals intercept, they'd run a hard line to the listening post. "Shammy, are you getting it?"

"_Yes, Misa. We've got the bearing for you...it's two eight three point one."_

"They aren't close," mused Claudia. Her headset was patched into the telephone line. "And the distance will make it harder for us to get a point bearing...Okay. Grid reference twenty-six fifteen by ten sixty-six. Plus or minus five hundred meters. It's pretty close to NA-D37."

Misa nodded, and picked up her radio. "Cat's Eye Three Oh Six, your grid reference is twenty-six fifteen by ten sixty-six. Visual by telescopic."

"_Pretty flat out here, Colonel. We'll have it for you in...okay, it's a crashed Zentraedi cruiser. Designated NA-D37._"

"Thank you, Three Oh Six." Misa clicked the radio off. "That's a confirm, Claudia."

Claudia nodded, and tapped into yet a third communications system. The LASER communications system relied on line-of-sight, but was uninterceptable except by direct interruption of the beam. "Location pinpointed. Commander Saotome, start your operation."

"_Roger._"

* * *

The Zentraedi switched on the communications system. "This is Rogai calling any loyal Zentraedi troops. We are under attack—"

Ranma fired a burst from his GU-11 over Rogai's head, and the Zentraedi ducked insinctively. "We are under attack by Miclone troops, and we're outnumbered. We could really use some help out here!"

There was a moment's pause, then a voice crackled from the communicator. "_Hold tight as long as you can, we're under—"_

Ranma waved the hand of his Valkyrie, and Rogai cut communications.

"Think that'll do it?"

Rogai grinned. "They'll come running. I can guarantee it."

"_Hayase to Saotome. The broadcast of the 'trial' has ceased, and Cat's Eye reports several armoured units approaching your position._"

"Here they come," said Ranma. He hunkered his unit down, and watched as the four Gunfighters started a brawl with the five full-sized Zentraedi.

This was the hardest part of the operation. The Valkyrie pilots had no negative feedback on their machines, and it was hard for them to judge how to pull a shot so that it inflicted no damage, without _looking_ like they were doing it. It seemed to be working, though; the Renegade robots had just crested the ridge, and were accelerating towards the brawl.

They slowed, however, when both the Valkyries and the Zentraedi broke and ran...both 'factions' in the same direction.

"Alpha Force, spring the trap."

The other thirty-two Valkyries rose from their concealed positions, weapons at the ready. And now Ranma could see the _Glaug_ leading the enemy forces, and its red and white livery.

"Kamjin!"

He leaped forwards, gun pod roaring, and the _Glaug_ turned to engage him. It rippled off all six of its onboard missiles, and he hosed them down, then reconfigured to GERWALK and fired eight GA-34 Stiletto heat seekers back at it.

He realized, as the _Glaug_ tried to evade his missiles, that the pilot couldn't be Kamjin; he was showing none of that Zentraedi Ace's talent. Five of the Stilettos slammed into the _Glaug_, downing it.

He jetted forward, reconfigured to Soldier Mode, and flipped the cracked canopy off the robot.

It was a woman inside, and one he recognized: Lap'Lamiz, Milia's former commander.

"_No!_"

The voice spoke in Zentraedi, but he knew _that_ word, at least. He twisted his Valkyrie aside, and a burst from a GU-11 tore through the space he'd occupied less than a second before. He turned, to see the Zentraedi Warlord, still firing his stolen cannon, charging forwards.

Ranma brought his own cannon up, and loosed a burst, but Kamjin twisted aside, then swung the expended gun to smash his Valkyrie's head.

The cockpit, of course, was in the Valkyrie's torso, but it still irritated Ranma to lose his primary sensor mount. He brought the Valkyrie around, lashing out with one enormous metal foot, and caught Kamjin across the torso. The giant alien absorbed the kick, and grabbed the Valkyrie's foot.

Ranma gritted his teeth, and rammed his throttle forward to maximum, blasting Kamjin in the chest with plasma. The giant's armour _burned_, shedding massive flakes of scorched ballistic plastic, and _still_ Kamjin kept coming.

"Well, I've had about enough of you."

Ranma jumped, reconfiguring to GERWALK, and climbed, then nosed down and fired four Diamondbacks from his arm mounts. They slammed into the ground all around Kamjin, but the alien still seemed unharmed.

_Must be pure rage keeping him upright,_ mused Ranma. He checked his stores, and decided that the SACS was only slowing him down now. He reached for the Jettison handle.

"_Snake Lead to Hayase. They had a hell of a lot more in reserve than expected. The rest of my team is down, and I've got to retreat. Hope you got a Plan B._"

Ranma's hand hovered over the jettison handle. He still had eight Stilettos, six Diamondbacks and the two Jackhammer-C missiles...He instead tapped into the Tac Net. "Hayase, Saotome. I can complete the extraction mission."

"_I knew you'd find away around my orders._" Misa's voice was light. "_All right. Execute the extraction._"

Ranma brought the nose of his jet around, ignoring the raging Kamjin below him. He reconfigured to Jet mode, and firewalled the throttle. Five seconds after reaching maximum velocity, he activated the rocket engines.

* * *

The six _Regult_ battle pods surrounding the crashed destroyer never knew what killed them. Two Jackhammer-C missiles ended their flight over their heads, and rained their submunitions down on the combat robots.

Ranma aimed for the docking bay, dropping down onto the deck in GERWALK mode and matter-surfing at just under the speed of sound. Ten Zentraedi, wearing standard body armour, were opening up with the crappy assault rifles they'd been issued, and he flipped on the thermal imaging system and designated his eight remaining Stilettos. They screamed out of the tubes, three of them killing Zentraedi Renegades and causing the rest to dive for cover.

With the SACS now completely empty, it was only slowing him down; he twisted the Jettison handle, and the six modules were blown off his jet. He swept around in an arc, hammering at the Zentraedi with the last of his cannon rounds, then ejected the empty clip and reconfigured to Soldier Mode long enough to jam in a fresh one.

The Zentraedi, effectively unarmoured against Valkyrie-scale weapons, broke and ran, and Ranma stalked forward into the ship.

Milia was still in her cage, and he lifted the plate from the top of it, then bent two of the forks outward. She climbed through the gap, and into the hand of his Valkyrie. He turned, gun pod held in one hand, but no further Zentraedi menaced them.

He flipped on the external loudspeakers. "Grab hold, Milia. We're going to GERWALK."

He reconfigured, and ramped the throttle up. The Valkyrie shot out of the docking bay, and towards Trad.

"Hayase, Saotome. Mission accomplished."

* * *

_Hawkwing_ alighted at the end of the runway, and Ranma knelt the bird and popped the canopy. He hopped out of the cockpit, and walked towards Milia.

"They mistreat you or anything?"

"Aside from detaining me unlawfully, no." Milia grimaced. "Of course, they intended to do a very thorough job of mistreating me once the trial was complete."

"Well, at least you're okay."

"In thanks, no small part, to you." Milia looked up at him and grinned. "Now, shall I give you the reward so commonly mentioned in your folklore?"

Ranma blinked. "Huh?"

Misa's voice broke in. "Kiss her, you idiot."

He glanced over, to see the Colonel standing nearby. He hadn't even noticed her jeep pulling up.

"Go ahead," said Misa quietly. She had a smile on her face, but it didn't reach anywhere near her eyes.

Ranma glanced back at Milia. She was staring at him, a look in her eyes that he'd seen before. But never from her.

He shook his head. "No. Not yet."


	34. Chapter ThirtyThree: Clowns To The Left

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Thirty-Three: Clowns To The Left Of Me...**

**May 9th, 2012**

"I hate to say it, Boss," said Chief Warrant Officer Bell, "but I think that this old bird has finally had the biscuit."

"Pretty bad, is it?" Ranma knew that _Hawkwing_ had taken some serious knocks in his last mission, but it sounded like things were even worse than he'd feared. He knew that the head had been caved in, but those modules were easily replaced.

"We've got fragment penetration in the left torso, and damage to the number seven pump housing," said Bell. "LIDAR is just gone, and we'd have to rebuild the mount before we could install a new unit. Left lower leg actuator is severely overstressed, and you know what a bitch it is to replace those, and you also severely overheated that engine. Thermal damage to the right torso rotary junction—" Why couldn't she call it a _hinge_, like any normal person? "—that we never could get fixed. It's a primary structural element. You've got three or four older wounds on that bird much like that, and it's reaching critical mass." She snapped her clipboard shut and ran a hand through her bangs. "In technical terms, your aircraft is what we call a 'write-off.'"

Ranma scowled. "_Switchblade_ has been around longer than _Hawkwing_, and she's still mission-capable."

"_Switchblade_ is a prototype, not even an Alpha. And she's developing cracks in her powerplant housings that we can't patch. She's in just as rough shape—probably worse."

"Damn." Ranma sighed. "At least they don't make me pay for 'em."

"Your insurance would be a bitch," said Bell. "If _Hawkwing_ had been a Stonewell-Bellcom bird, instead of a Shinnakasu, we might have been able to fix her. But we never had an awful lot of spare parts from Shinnakasu, and they're long gone." The Shinnakasu factory had been plastered from orbit during the Holocaust, and while they were rebuilding, the bulk of their spare parts had been on site, and were now vapour. "As it is, we'd have to fab up the parts on site, and the total cost of repair would be more than double the price of a new bird."

"Okay. What have we got in the motor pool?"

"Nothing." Bell flipped open her clipboard again. "Since you're not assigned to a squadron, we have only the reserve motor pool, and they're badly depleted due to the Diamondbacks' losses. They lost all eighteen of their birds—"

"All eighteen?" Ranma frowned. "I though Max got out of that furball alive."

"Oh, he did. So did half his pilots. But _Falconeur_ was written off, too, and the Diamondbacks were struck."

"Shit," mused Ranma.

"So Colonel Hayase reactivated the Top Hatters as VFA-119. She offered the CO's spot to Max, but apparently, he declined."

Ranma frowned. It just wasn't heard of for an officer to decline a posting. No matter how conditionally it was offered, declining a post would almost certainly bring an officer's career to a screeching halt. "Why did he do that?"

"No idea," admitted Bell. "But they ended up giving Top Hatters to Park."

Ranma had trained Park, and while his opinion of the man's flying was not so great, he knew that the young pilot had shown great promise in leadership. But Max...it just didn't make sense. He stood up suddenly.

"Well, as you say, I'm not exactly in a squadron right now, and they tell me they've got the Lightning back up again for more test flights...I'm guessing that's what I'll be riding in the near future."

"With both _Switchblade_ and _Hawkwing_ down for the count, I'm gonna be out of a job," said Bell.

"Don't sweat that," said Ranma. "I'm sure my next ride's gonna be a factory-new Super, and I'll need a plane captain. I'd rather have the best."

"Well, in case the best isn't available," quipped Bell, "you might have to make do with me."

* * *

"Yo, Misa."

Misa looked up from the report that she, Milia and Nabiki were poring over. "Ranma. How can I help you?"

"Dunno if you can," admitted Ranma. "But I just heard Max refused the Top Hatters. Any idea why?"

"Not precisely," said Misa. "I do know that he resigned his commission earlier today."

Ranma blinked. "He did?"

"Yes," said Nabiki. "My sources tell me that he felt that 'the United Nations Space Service was no longer fulfilling the mission for which it was chartered,' end quote."

Ranma frowned. "It ain't like Max to just walk away from somethin' like that."

"The Diamondbacks were totally wiped out," said Misa. "And he'd been flying _Falconeur_ since the day he was commissioned."

"Not quite," said Ranma. "_Falconeur_ was his second bird. But he didn't spend long in an Alpha before getting promoted."

"Still," said Nabiki, "he was apparently disaffected with the way the Spacy was handling the Malcontent issue."

"Yeah," mused Ranma. "He was griping about that last week, during the Trad incident."

"Speaking of which." Nabiki glanced down at the report on the table. "You reported that _Kamjin_ was involved in that?"

"Took me by surprise." Ranma stuck a finger to his lips—a move that looked cute as hell in his girl form, but somewhat stupid in male form. Misa repressed a giggle.

"We thought his command cruiser had been taken out during Ragnarok," he continued. "But if he'd executed a fold before the Fortress went, he might have survived."

"We didn't detect a second fold signature," said Nabiki. "Plus, the reports we've received from Vwritlai indicate that Kamjin's fold system was damaged during the battle of May fifth, twenty-ten."

Misa winced at the reference. She'd been drunk on duty—well, okay, only slightly—and had accidentally shot down then-Lieutenant Ichigyo Hikaru.

"So if he didn't fold, how did he escape?" Ranma frowned. "I mean, he was practically on top of the Fortress."

Nabiki pulled a file from her folder. "This is the recon report on crash site NA-D37." She unclipped a photo from the rest of the file and slid it across the table to Ranma. "Does that look like the ship you saw?"

Ranma picked up the photo and glanced at it. "Yeah, that's it." He blinked, and looked again. "But that ain't Kamjin's ship."

"No, it is not," said Milia. It was the first time she'd spoken since he'd approached. "Kamjin was assigned a _Queadol-Magdomilla_ cruiser. That ship is a _Thuveral Salan_ class destroyer."

"Is it possible he was aboard that ship at the time of the fold?"

"It certainly is possible," said Milia. "It would be unusual, however. Plus, that ship has certainly crashed. It could not be raised again. It did, however, make a relatively soft landing."

"So if he was aboard that _Salan_, he could have survived the crash." Ranma bit his lip. "An' I didn't put him down at the battle of Trad. So he might still be out there."

"He most certainly is," said Milia. "He was not among the prisoners or casualties. However, you did at least destroy his _Glaug_, and the body of Lap'Lamiz was recovered."

"Yeah, that really set him off," mused Ranma.

"I believe that they had become lovers," said Milia. "So his reaction to her death was...predictable."

Ranma's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Cultural contamination," said Milia. "And those two were sufficiently alike to allow it to happen."

"Which means he's gonna be twice as mad at us." Ranma sighed. "Well, is there _any_ good news?"

"Only one," said Misa. "The Lightning project has been fully approved by the Admiralty, and any further test flights are only to straighten out the bugs in the design."

"It needs more control surfaces," Ranma said instantly. "Especially around the nose. Maybe canards, or somethin'."

Misa laughed. "Don't tell me. Tell McCain, and he can tell Stonewell-Bellcom."

"But if I gotta fly combat any time soon, I got no ride," said Ranma. "They wrote off _Hawkwing_ and _Switchblade_ both today."

"You do have one other combat robot," said Milia. "And it has been repainted."

"Oh, the _Queaddlun-Rau,_" said Ranma. "Yeah, and it's a nasty piece of work, but how many other Zentraedi robots do we have in our service?"

"None," said Misa. "Though we're looking at adapting the _Glaug_ to Miclone operation. Maybe even upgrading it. If we can get the Protoculture Factory back on line."

Ranma nodded, then said, "Well, have we got a second _Queaddlun-Rau_ available? Even one that ain't mission capable?"

"Yes," said Nabiki. "We have one that you captured some time ago. Why?"

"Because my plane captain ain't checked out on the type," said Ranma. "And I wanna keep Bell. She's the best plane captain I ever had." And he'd had a few; Wiersbowski for Delta 403, Corporal Ross for _Switchblade_, and Bell herself, who'd taken over _Switchblade_ from Ross.

"I can get it released," promised Nabiki. "And if Bell is as good as you claim, she might just complete doctrine on repairing the _Queaddlun-Rau._"

* * *

**March 16th, 2012**

"Master Saotome."

Ranma paused, and turned to face Milia. "Yeah?"

"A new film is opening tonight."

"So I've heard," said Ranma. "All about the Space War, an' givin' me a bigger role than I deserve."

"Of that last, I am uncertain," said Milia. "However, I wanted to ask you to accompany me to see it."

He almost agreed, until his brain started working. "As in, a date?"

"Yes," said Milia. "I am told that a movie is an acceptable first date."

_Well, it was only a matter of time._ He sighed. "Milia, I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because you still think of yourself as my property."

She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. "I apologize. You are correct. I should have waited for _you_ to ask me."

He threw up his hands. "That's not what I meant!"

Now Milia looked puzzled. "Perhaps you could tell me what you mean?"

"I've told you dozens of times, you're a free woman. You can do what you want."

"And I wish to go to the movie with you," said Milia.

"No, Milia." He turned and stormed off.

Milia bit her lip. "I do not understand where the problem lies."

* * *

Maximilian Jenius, late of the United Nations Space Force, glanced around the base with a look of disgust on his face.

"I have to say, I am not overly impressed so far."

Salinas shook his head. "It's a bit rough as of yet, but we'll get it back in order. We're not going to touch the outside, though. The less reputable it looks, the less likely it is to be investigated."

"And what about the team?"

"They're a bit of a mixed lot," admitted Salinas. "Some of them are here for the same reason you are: the Malcontents are getting just a bit too bold. Others are just anti-Zentraedi."

"I don't want anyone like that in my Flight," Max said instantly. "Most Zentraedi are decent enough."

"I've got my own doubts about that," said Salinas. "But as long as they stay peaceful, it's not an issue. Our goal is the suppression of Malcontent violence. If we can keep them from organizing, we can keep the damage level down. That outfit that hit Trad—"

"They were rallying around a Renegade officer," said Max. "Kranshevra Kamjin. If we can figure out where he's hiding, we can smash half the Malcontent problem with one shot."

"Our intel teams will be concentrating on him." Salinas frowned. "Guy seems to have vanished entirely, though."

"What about hardware?"

"We've got six Valkyries available to us, as well as three prototype ships of various versions." Salinas flipped open his notebook. "Unfortunately, all of them are in various states of disrepair. On the other hand, we've got twelve Valkyries that will never fly again. We can mine them for spare parts." He closed the notebook again. "This site wasn't targeted directly by the Zentraedi during the Holocaust, but a nearby powerplant was—the one that powered this site. We'll have the lights back on by tomorrow, and then we can start getting the aircraft repaired."

"Let me see the inventory."

Salinas passed the notebook over, and Max flipped it open again. He perused the list of aircraft, then tapped the one at the bottom.

"I'll want this bird for my own. Can you make it a priority?"

"The VF-X-2?" Salinas shrugged. "Sure. Mostly uses standard parts, save for the powerplants, and they're ticking over nicely."

"Okay." Max grinned. "When will we have some targeting intelligence?"

"We've got a pipeline into the regular Intelligence department," said Salinas. "We should be getting some intel day after tomorrow."

"Oh, before I forget." Max's expression turned serious again. "One thing we cannot afford to do is to anger the regular Spacy. I don't want to do anything that risks them coming down on us."

"Just operating will be risky," admitted Salinas. "Once they learn that there's a band of civilians—even if most of them _are_ former Spacy—they'll want to shut us down." He cleared his throat. "After all, what we are doing is illegal."

"Illegal or not, it's what has to be done."

* * *

"He turned you down, didn't he?"

It wasn't really a question, but Milia nodded. "He did."

"I figured he would," admitted Misa. "Probably why I didn't mind giving you the advice."

Milia looked up at her, and Misa felt a bit of a chill.

"You have not ceased entertaining hopes that he will parter with you."

"I know he loves me," said Misa. "But I also know that he and I cannot be together. And I look at you, and see everything he ever said he loved in his wife. And none of the things he didn't like. How can I _not_ be jealous?"

"I do not understand jealousy." Misa paused, then asked, "Is there any reason why we both cannot be his partners?"

Misa chuckled. "You mean you'd be willing to _share_ him?"

"Neither of us could be at his side every minute of the day," said Milia. "Surely with two of us, we could support him more continuously?"

Something seemed to click in Misa's mind. "Tell me something, Milia. Do you love him?"

"As far as I understand the word, I believe so. But I admit that my understanding of the emotion is imperfect."

_Trust a Zentraedi to state it so bluntly,_ mused Misa. "Do you love him enough to give him up?" She felt herself growing angry. "Because here I am, all but _throwing_ him at you, despite the way I feel. Because you're better than me. Because he _deserves_ better than me."

"Do you truly feel so little for him that you would not fight for him?"

She nearly lost her temper at that remark. Savagely, she forced it down. "He's not a trophy, not some prize to be claimed! _That_ attitude is exactly what pissed him off so much about all the 'fiancees' he had when he was a teenager. Is _that_ how you're approaching this—like it's a _game?_"

"No," said Milia. "I am his. If he does not accept this, it does not matter; I belong to him. He has won _me_; I cannot win him. But if he will not accept me—"

"Then you have no choice," said Misa. "You have to abide by what _he_ wants."

* * *

"I have a small favour to ask, Ranma." Nodoka set her tea cup down, and folded her hands in her lap. "One of my employees has been overworking herself, and needs some down time. However, she has refused to take any leave, as she believes that her studies are more important than her health."

Ranma shrugged. "If she's refusing even a direct order to take it easy, there's not a lot I can do."

"Well, there is, actually." Nodoka grinned. "You see, while she is shaping up to be an excellent officer, she still remains at heart a very lonely girl. So if you were to ask her to go to the movies—"

Ranma raised his hand. "Whoa. You're trying to set me up with her, aren't you?"

"Not at all!" Nodoka shook her head. "Well, perhaps a little. At the very least, I'd be happier seeing you out with _someone_, and where my little problem intersects with hers, a natural solution presents itself."

"You're channelin' Nabiki again, aren't you?"

"Nabiki has a very sensible head on her shoulders," said Nodoka. "In fact, if I thought there was any way at all to make it happen, I'd be trying my best to get you two together." She shook her head again. "Sadly, it's not going to happen, so I felt I should go for second-best."

Ranma sighed. "Okay. So who is it you want me to take out?"

"I wonder if I should tell you." She put on her best pout. "If I do, you'll just come out with some reason why not."

Ranma considered her words, and glumly forced himself to agree with her. "So how about this: I promise that, barring any glaringly obvious reason, I won't say no."

"Fair enough," allowed Nodoka. "It's Ling—"

"_Minmay?_" Ranma groaned. "Oh, where to start with the glaringly obvious. How 'bout the fact that she's half my age?"

"Nothing of the sort!" Nodoka shook her head. "She's nineteen, and you're...okay, so she is half your age. More or less. There's nothing wrong with that; you're only taking her to the movies!"

"But you know she won't see it that way," objected Ranma. "Okay, we'll set that aside. How about the fact that one Ichigyo Hikaru, commanding officer of the Jolly Rogers, is more or less her boyfriend?"

"Less, rather than more," said Nodoka. "I doubt they've even _seen_ each other recently. Plus, he's currently on station in Trad."

He'd known that that was a weak argument, but it was worth a try. "How about the fact that I don't really like her that way?"

"Again, I'm asking you to take her to the movies, not to marry her."

He was running out of arguments. "Someone else asked me to go."

"And did you say yes?"

"...No." He couldn't lie to his own mother, could he?

"Then I suppose it doesn't matter."

Ranma sighed. "Okay, Mom. I'll do it."

Nodoka grinned. "I'll tell her to meet you at your quarters at five o'clock."

_This is a stupid idea._

* * *

"That's a stupid idea!" Nabiki shook her head in disbelief. "Didn't you learn _anything_ from Nerima?"

Nodoka blinked. "I don't understand what you mean. He's not currently seeing anyone. What's wrong with giving Minmay a little help?"

"First of all, there's the fact that you essentially manipulated him into this," said Nabiki. "After the Ranko incident, you _know_ he won't refuse you anything. Even now, seventeen years later, he still feels badly about it."

"It's a mother's duty to give her son a nudge in the right direction," said Nodoka primly. "What's wrong with that?"

"This wasn't a _nudge_," replied Nabiki acidly. "It was a sideswipe. Second, he might not be seeing anyone right now, but there's three other women who are more than a bit interested in him."

"Misa has laid aside any claim on him," countered Nodoka. "And he turned down Milia."

"Misa might have said she's not interested in dating him," said Nabiki, "but she still has _very_ strong feelings for him, and a bit of a jealous streak. That last is the reason that they broke up, but she's trying to correct that. But she'll blow up if she finds out about this plot."

She stood up, and started pacing. "As for Milia," she continued, "it's only a matter of time before she figures out what she's doing wrong. And as soon as she _does_, he's not going to know what hit him."

"And who's the third woman?"

"Me," snapped Nabiki.

Nodoka blinked. "You?"

"Do you think I'm immune to the Saotome Effect? Especially after he saved my life, after the misfold?" She shook her head. "I know he doesn't look at me that way, especially since our history together was so rocky—'Longest week of my life', I believe he said?—but I've grown up since then, and so has he." She looked down at her feet. "Many a time I've kicked myself for pushing him off onto Akane. Not just because it was a rotten thing to do, but because once I realized that behind that jock attitude, he had a brain as well...and the biggest heart I've ever seen..."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" asked Nodoka quietly.

"Because you would have tried to force us together," said Nabiki. "And neither of us wanted that. We've been getting along a lot better than when we were kids, and I was enjoying that. But I knew that he was hung up pretty solid on Misa, so I kept to myself. Then they broke up, and I thought, 'Now I have a chance.' But I waited—he was in pretty bad pain over the break-up. And I waited too long; two weeks later, Milia came up on his radar."

She sat down, and heaved a sigh. "I really doubted there'd be anything romantic between them, but I thought at least trying to rehabilitate her might help him heal. And seconds after that, the Holocaust. And then nobody had any time for _anything_; we had a planet to rebuild. I saw more of Misa than I did of Ranma, and he saw more of Misa and Milia than he did of me, and...I guess I gave up."

"It's far from too late," said Nodoka quietly. "Remember that he doesn't view this date with Minmay anything more than a favour to me."

"But _she_ will," said Nabiki. "Especially given the way you told her—that he was interested in going to the movies with her."

"That doesn't mean—"

"He shies away from personal connections," said Nabiki. "If I do anything—anything at _all_—before he settles down from _this_, he'll react very badly. And I don't want that." She grimaced. "Nor do I want to be one more member of the cat-fight that is _certain_ to erupt out of this."

Nodoka looked concerned. "Is it really that bad?"

"Nodoka...if there is one thing that _any_ woman will agree upon, it's that Saotome Ranma is worth fighting for."

* * *

"Hi, Ranma!" Minmay grinned. "Ready to go?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he said. He wasn't at all looking forward to this, but he'd promised his mother to show Minmay a good time. Despite his suspicions—no, scratch that: his near certainty that she was plotting again.

But it meant he had to be cheerful, so he forced a grin, and offered her his arm.

* * *

"It wasn't that bad, Ranma!" Minmay laughed. "Even if they did turn me into an alien for whatever reason."

"Makin' the combat robots read the pilot's mind was a bit fake, too," said Ranma. He chuckled. "I guess they didn't expect the audience to believe the truth."

"And what _is_ the truth?"

"It's all done with computers," said Ranma. "Even a rookie can climb into a Soldier-Mode Valkyrie and get _some_ kind of action out of it. Hikaru managed it."

"Alien magic sounds cooler, though," said Minmay. "Especially when it let you throw fireballs."

Ranma smirked. "Fireballs are easy." He sighed. "Well, it was at least a halfway decent piece of propaganda."

"You said the same thing about the movie I was in," said Minmay crossly.

"I did not," he objected. "I merely stated that it could well have _been_ propaganda."

"Same thing," she sniffed.

"Well maybe," he admitted. "Well, I hope you had a good time, at least."

"I did," she said. "And I'm looking forward to next time."

He stopped, and sighed. "Minmay, I get the feeling that Mom didn't tell you the truth."

"What?" She stepped around in front of him, to look up at him. "You mean, you didn't want to go out with me?"

"That's not what I said. But Mom is trying her best to push us together, and I don't think that's very fair to either of us."

"I don't mind," she said quickly.

"Yeah, but..." He sighed. "Look, Minmay. You're a lot younger than me. Shouldn't you be looking for someone closer to your age?"

"Nobody my age is half as nice as you are," she said softly. "As soon as they figure out who I am, they go from a potential friend to a crazed fanboy. Even around here, where I'm not working in entertainment, everyone remembers me from the ship."

"Give it time," said Ranma. "You've only been in town less than three months. Besides, Hikaru knew you before you were famous."

She snorted. "I haven't seen Hikaru for months. I called him and left him my comm code, but he never got back to me."

Ranma frowned. "Really?"

She nodded. "The only person who's shown any interest in me is you. And now—"

"Wait," said Ranma. "I wanna get somethin' straight. I can't see tonight leading much further, okay? I wanted to do somethin' nice for ya, because you've been lonely and over-stressed."

"Oh, I know," she said. "But still, it _was_ nice of you—"

"_Ranma!_"

Ranma blinked, and turned...to see Milia storming towards them.

_Oh,_ this _I need._

She drew herself to a halt, a meter away from them, and glowered briefly at Minmay before turning the full force of her ire upon Ranma.

"I had asked you to see this movie with me tonight."

"Yes, you did," said Ranma. "And I said no."

She bit back whatever retort she had been about to make, then carefully said, "You stated that you did not hold my prior defeats against me, and that you considered me a free agent. Does this still stand?"

"It does," he said, matching her careful tone.

Milia pointed at Minmay. "_You_ I hold blameless in this." Her finger shifted to Ranma. "But _you_—"

His first reaction was to try to deny it—after all, that reaction had stood him in good stead for many years. But the problem was that he could see why she should feel insulted. So instead, he replied, "I can see why you would feel insulted, but no insult was intended."

"None the less," she said. "I regret that my upcoming mission requires my absence for the next five days. Upon my return, I shall meet you in the _dojo_."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Very well. I shall be there."

She nodded once, then turned and stalked off.

Minmay let out a breath. "I thought she was going to attack you right here and now."

"I thought so, too," said Ranma. "But this is even better."

"_Better?_"

Ranma nodded. "She finally has decided to treat me as an equal. No, better than that; as one of her own." He grinned. "I'm looking forward to our duel."

Minmay blinked, then stepped round to face him directly.

"Do you mean to tell me you intend to go through with it? To beat her up—_again?_"

He nodded again. "Where else can you learn the true measure of another warrior, but on the field of honour?"

She gaped at him a moment longer, then shook her head. "Boys and their silly games! And it's even worse when the _girls_ get involved in them!"

* * *

_16 May, 2012_

The U. N. Spacy did not, of course, formally recognize duels, but in keeping with the international stance of the United Nations, did not interfere with "local or regional cultural differences", and both the Japanese culture and what there was of Zentraedi culture cheerfully accpeted duelling as a legitimate means of working out grievances. Things were also complicated by the fact that Ranma and Milia had chosen the same person for their seconds, and upon learning of this fact, had both independantly chosen the same person for their alternates, as well.

A quick meeting between the two proposed seconds had settled the issue.

"Misa and I have agreed to first blood or knockout," said Nodoka. "Neither of us really want to see Milia harmed."

"Neither do I, Mom," said Ranma. Niceties of the _code duello_ be damned, he'd call his second by the title he held most dear. "An' at least I know you're confident I'll beat her."

"She's come a long way," said Nodoka. "But she's hardly in your league. You are the last remaining student of the Saotome school of Unrestricted Grappling, and this is the first official duel you've fought; you've been accepted by two students as Master; now you will _earn_ the title."

He shook his head. "Only one person could give me that title, Mom."

She smiled. "Do your best."

He bowed to her, then turned and entered the _dojo_.

To his surprise, he was not the only one present. Milia was already there, along with her second—Hayase Misa. Nabiki, Hikaru and Minmay stood to the side. He turned back to Nodoka.

"What are _they_ doing there?"

"Misa and I agreed to Nabiki as the judge, and Minmay requested to be present as a witness. Again, Misa and I agreed on that. We recruited Hikaru as a second witness."

He sighed. "Forgot about needin' a judge." He stepped onto the _tatami_, and bowed, first to the _iroha_, then to his honourable opponent. Milia returned the bows.

Nabiki stepped forward, bowing as well. She turned to face Nodoka, and out of deference to the fact that Milia spoke no Japanese, addressed her in English. "Are all your interested parties present?"

"They are."

She turned to Misa. "Are all your interested parties present?"

"They are."

The Japanese _code duello_ was different from the Zentraedi, and Nabiki was unfamiliar with both. She was obviously making this up as she went along. But it _sounded_ right.

"At this time, I will ask if either of you have chosen to lay aside your disputes. Milia Fallyna, how say you?"

"I have not."

"Saotome Ranma, how say you?"

He shook his head. "I have not."

She stepped back. "Then be ready to fight with honour." She raised her hand, and Ranma snapped into a full ready position. Milia adopted a stance closer to his usual choice; a rear-leg stance, that made her look deceptively vulnerable.

_Best finish this quick._

"Begin."

Ranma stepped forward, his rear foot coming up into a kick. Milia parried it, as he expected, and struck into the opening, also as he expected. He turned her counterattack against her into the _shiho nage_, a powerful throw that could be turned into a pin.

To his considerable surprise, she stole the energy from his throw, turning it into a somersault, so flawlessly executed that it looked like he'd assisted her with it.

_Where did that—_I _didn't teach her that!_

She landed behind him, and spun into a hook kick—practically his own signature kick. He parried it, but was forced to do so with the elbow, his back still to her. He stepped backwards, his leg hooking around hers, and elbowed her in the solar plexus. She parried, but the blow still struck. It was robbed of its energy, however, and she fell back, but pulled it into a back roll and came up facing him, hands at the ready.

He used the break to turn to face her, and stepped forward again. _She's weak on the defense; she only thinks of the attack—_

His train of thought was interrupted by the heel of her hand striking his chin. Hard.

_Ow! Can't let her do that again—_

She closed the gap again, going to short-arm strikes, aiming for his torso. He parried three shots, and jumped back to open the range again.

_She knows I got a reach advantage, an' she's nullifyin' it as much as she can. I can't use any special techniques—it wouldn't be honourable, an' they'd wreck the_ dojo_. But I gotta put her down fast an' hard..._

She came again, her face a mask of concentration. He parried her low kick, her higher hook kick, then three more body blows.

_She's fast, was fast even before I trained her up. Probably faster than me..._

No, she wasn't. His mind flashed to one special technique he _could_ use.

He jumped back once again, then adopted an open stance. Milia smirked, and charged in.

"_Kachuu Tenshin Amaguriken!_"

Fifty separate blows rained upon her in under two seconds. Milia staggered back, dazed, a splash of blood flying from one split cheekbone. But only the one; every other strike had struck muscle, not bone or soft tissue.

He stopped, held his stance. Milia took one more step back, then collapsed to her knees.

"Stop." Nabiki held up her hand, then walked forward to examine Milia. She touched the Zentraedi's cheek, then nodded.

"First blood." She turned to Ranma. "Do you find that your honour has been fulfilled?"

Ranma nodded. "I do."

Nabiki turned back to Milia. "Fallyna Milia. Do you find that your honour has been fulfilled?"

She nodded, still gasping for breath.

"Then I declare the match ended through first blood."

Ranma bowed to Nabiki, then to Milia, then again to the _iroha_. Only then did he walk over to Milia.

She'd managed to regain her breath, and looked up at him in surprise as he extended his hand. She took it hesitantly, and he helped her to her feet.

Then she grinned. "Movies tomorrow?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

* * *

"APU and starboard powerplant are fully online," said Salinas. "And that failed portside powerplant...we've got a half-dozen spare Two-Kay-Twos coming in tomorrow."

"Where did you get them?"

Salinas shook his head. "They didn't tell me, and I didn't ask. Avionics are done, armaments are ready, and as soon as we fit the new powerplant and get it calibrated, we can start the full-body kinesics programming."

"How long?"

"Four days, maybe five," said Salinas.

Max nodded. "I'll spend it reading the flight manual."

"We've got a simulation set up for Jet Mode and GERWALK mode."

"I'll take it."

"So all told," said Salinas, "I figure in a week, we can start operations."

Max grinned. "And then we knock a gigantic hole in the Malcontent forces."

* * *

**OMAKE**

"The only person who's shown any interest in me is you. And now—"

"Wait," said Ranma. "I wanna get somethin' straight. I can't see tonight leading much further, okay? I wanted to do somethin' nice for ya, because you've been lonely and over-stressed."

"Oh, I know," she said. "But still, it _was_ nice of you—"

"_Ranma!_"

Ranma blinked, and turned...just in time to see Milia's foot slamming into Minmay's face.

"Wait a minute—"

Milia was obviously not in a mood to wait for anything. "There's no way I'm letting you steal him, you little _bimbo!_ He defeated me, so I belong to him!"

Ranma shook his head. Aside from the odd way that was phrased, it seemed remarkably familiar. Especially given Milia's somewhat unorthodox hair colour.

"Back off, you alien floozy. He's _mine!_"

He blinked. "Misa?"

Sure enough, the brunette was storming down on them, in a jealousy storm that put him in mind of a certain tomboy from his past.

"Ranma's known me for _years_, and I'm the only one here he's actually seen on a long term basis."

Milia sniffed. "Perhaps. But _I_ was the only one whom he called cute."

"I did?"

"He did?" Misa blinked.

"Certainly he did. In Chapter Twenty Six." Fourth wall violations were much easier, Milia reflected, when it wasn't part of the main story line.

Misa scowled, and raised her fists. "He respects strength. You _lost_ to him. Four times now, counting this chapter just past."

"Technically," said Ranma, "that part of this chapter hasn't happened yet."

"Hey, if she can ignore the fourth wall, then I can ignore continuity, right?"

Milia snorted. "I've already beaten you once."

"I'm up for the rematch," Misa snarled. "You're not the only martial artist here!"

"Indeed not," broke in a new voice.

"Who now?" He turned, to see Max approaching. The pilot smirked, and drew—

"A _sword?_ Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me!"

"Most English private schools still teach Fencing, Saotome. Now I will _force_ you to drop the charade, and release the red-haired girl from your control."

"Well, _that_ took longer than I expected."

"What about me, Ranma?" Claudia stepped out of the shadows. "Are you going to turn your back on all those long nights we spent together?"

He froze, not unexpectedly, from the glares given him by the other females present. He raised his hands. "It's not what it sounds like. We were just _talking!_"

"Enemy of women," screamed Max. "I shall strike you down!"

"I thought _Macross_ landed in Alaska, not Nerima!" Ranma shook his head. "The only goofball missing is that screwy—"

"Saotome Ranma!" A very ragged, bearded and angry Ryouga made his appearance. "I shall make you _pay_ for destroying the Earth!"

"...Right on schedule." With only one option remaining, Ranma took it.

"Saotome Secret Technique!"

* * *

From a safe distance, Nodoka watched with tears running down her face as her son ran from the varied assailants, love interests, and people who fit in both categories.

"My son is so _manly!_"


	35. Chapter ThirtyFour: Jokers To The Right

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Thirty-Four: ...Jokers To The Right**

**March 30th, 2012**

Ranma pulled the throttle back, and spun the collar on the throttle lever that had replaced the individual configuration controls. The YF-4 pitched nose down, the engine nacelles swinging down to balance its position, and he fired the LASER cannons mounted in the GERWALK-Mode fighter's wrists at the targets.

"Ten for ten, and resuming forward flight."

He jammed the throttle forward again, and the jet slid back into forward movement, nosing up again. In three seconds, speed was above a hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, and the fighter reconfigured automatically back to Jet Mode.

"The auto-reconfiguration buggered up the attack run, Misa." He scowled at his instruments. "If this bird drops below stall speed, it shifts, even if I try to override."

"_Clarion, Tower. Noted._" Misa hadn't complained about his somewhat more relaxed radio protocol, but she wasn't partaking of it either. Every message she sent was as crisp as the days of the Space War and Gunsight One. "_But McCain insists that we not disable that safety feature with the prototype. And it_ is _their bird._"

"Yeah, well, if they want very-low-alpha targeting data in Jet Mode, they better make sure the bird stays in Jet Mode."

"_Clarion, come left to one eight three and increase speed to—Wait one._" Misa's voice cut off. Ranma scowled, but didn't joggle her elbow; Misa wouldn't tell him what was going on until she had a free minute to do so, and even then, it might be outside his classification pigeonhole.

_Sure is takin' her a long time to deal with, though._

Finally, she clicked back onto the line. "_Clarion, Tower. We have reports of a Malcontent attack—_"

_Oh, great._

"_Come left to one eight zero, and activate ALS._"

Ranma blinked. The ALS was the automatic landing system. Even though he could understand why he was being ordered back to base—the YF-4 was still a prototype, not yet certified for combat—why order the use of the ALS? He could land this bird on a dime, and call heads or tails by how the Lightning's foot was sitting on the tarmac.

But he had his orders, and it didn't harm him any to follow them. "Roger, Tower. ALS active, coming to one eight zero."

He glanced through the canopy over to the left as he banked the fighter, saw two Valkyries taxiing for takeoff. _That might explain it, ALS is semi-active, and would let Tower track me that much more easily during a scramble..._

He frowned. The Valkyries were taking off under roll-out, which they'd only do if they were so heavy on fuel that vertical wasn't an option...but they weren't overthrusting, which was a good sign that they had to conserve whatever fuel they had. So they were probably on a long trip, and...He shook his head momentarily, and popped open his nav computer. A quick set of calculations gave him the numbers he was looking for.

"Tower, Clarion. Where are those Valks going?"

"_Clarion, Tower. You don't need to know."_

"Misa, you're sendin' them almost forty-five hundred kilometers. Gotta be at least four thousand, but I'm bettin' it's near the edge of their range. Might be further if you've got tanker support up for them."

There was a brief silence from the other end, then Misa's voice came back on. "_Clarion, please confirm encryption six echo alpha two._"

Ranma punched the code into his commo board, and waited while the computer performed a simple checksum. "My encryption key reads five five charlie delta."

"_Confirmed, Clarion. Ranma, the report of Malcontent activity comes from a former U. N. Air Base at North Bay, in what used to be Ontario. Flight time at optimum engine power is five and a half hours._"

Ranma was already punching nav data into his navigational computer. "Tower, I can make that run in three hours."

"_Three hours or five, Ranma, it won't make a difference if they're currently under attack._"

"Are they?"

"_No, but—_"

"Those Valks, and any others you're sendin' out that way, will need turnaround time if they're goin' out for preventative measures, or cleanup duty. At least I can get a two hour march on 'em by gettin' there first, and then I can cover them while they refuel."

"_Ranma, that airplane isn't certified yet. Technically, it doesn't even belong to us; it's still Stonewell-Bellcom property._"

"Well, ask him to clear it for us." Ranma smirked. "We need to test the bird's long-range interdict and patrol capability."

Misa heaved a long-suffering and overly theatrical sigh. "_Clarion, Tower. Come to one two five and stand by for burn data._"

* * *

Salinas nodded. "They're sending out a pair of Valkyries."

"Any ideas which ones?"

"Didn't catch squadron names or pilot names, just call sign...and that could be anything," admitted Salinas.

Max nodded, then frowned. "Just two?"

"The North Bay site doesn't have any combat robots on station," said Salinas. "Too far to ship Destroids, except for Defenders and Spartans. You can't _walk_ a Tomahawk across four thousand kilometers of bog. And they don't have a lot of Valkyries to go around."

"Well, do you think we should intervene?"

Salinas frowned. "This ain't exactly in our mandate, Max. We're supposed to be helping civilians, not the military. And this is our debut fight."

"We're supposed to be fighting the Malcontents," said Max. "I don't think it matters who's getting attacked. And that base can't exactly defend itself. Look." He touched some controls, showed the flight path he expected a pair of Valkyries to follow. "It's going to take them five hours to get there—five whole hours. We can hit the place in two hours and ten minutes from take-off—call it two and a half, with warm-up. Right now, the Malcontents have the defending forces buttoned up, but it's only a matter of time before whoever's leading those goons either finds what he's looking for, or runs out of patience."

"We could arrive in two and a half hours, find the bad guys scattered to hell and gone, and have revealed ourself for no end," countered Salinas.

"Revealed ourselves as what?" Max tapped the display. "Look, here and here. Their radar transmitters have been taken out. We do a look-see from two klicks up, and if we spot Zentraedi thermal signatures, we engage. Otherwise, we bug out, nobody can get eyes on us, much less paint us with radar."

Salinas nodded. "Well, I put you in charge of the air wing. It's your call."

"Yes, Sir." Max snapped to attention and saluted. "Vigilantes will deploy."

* * *

"_North Bay reported a Malcontent attack, but informed us that they were able to contain it,_" said Misa. "_Ten minutes later, they were back on the air, telling us that the enemy had overrun their defenses, but were not advancing further. They appear to be searching the base for something._"

"They might think there's a recloning chamber there," said Ranma. "Is there?"

"_No, but there_ are _some primary cloning chambers,_" said Misa. "_They were damaged, and were sent to North Bay for examination._"

"Why send 'em halfway across the planet?" grumbled Ranma.

"_It's not halfway across the planet; more like a sixth of the way._" Misa's tone was one of admonishment. "_And you know the answer to the question already._"

"Politics," grumbled Ranma.

"_You know it,_" said Misa sweetly. Then, in a more businesslike tone: "_Say state, Clarion._"

"Clarion, one Yankee Foxtrot Four Alpha. One GU-11, four blue Diamondbacks." The missiles were carried attached conformally to the fuselage. He could not reconfigure to Soldier Mode before using or jettisoning them, which was the only reason he was carrying them; the computer had refused to switch to Soldier Mode while they were attached.

Unfortunately, they were "blue", or exercise, rounds, which meant that they were worthless in combat. But the fighter flew a bit faster with them attached, so he didn't jettison them. His gun pod, at least, had live rounds, and the LASER cannons worked fine.

"_You're underarmed to break this siege, Clarion. Reports indicate twenty-six_ Regult_-type pods of one sort or another, plus at least one_ Glaug_._"

"Hopefully, I can rattle 'em." Ranma frowned. "That _Glaug_...is it Kamjin's?"

"_Unknown, Clarion._"

* * *

"Okay, Vigilantes." Max ran a final check of his board. "Coming up on the limits of their radar range. Remember, once they detect us, I want us to go for maximum frightfulness."

"_Roger that, Max._"

"_Tallyho,_" yelled Vigilante Three. "_I have IR contacts—_Regults _and a_ Glaug_."_

Max grinned. "All Vigilates, elements break and attack."

The six aircraft split into three groups of two, and dove into the city.

* * *

Ranma's autopilot pinged, and he altered his course slightly and nosed the big fighter down. Below him, the North Bay military base was still little more than a dot on the horizon. He activated the long-range visual camera, and scowled.

He switched on his satellite radio. "Macross, Clarion. I have eyes on North Bay, and there appears to be Valkyries already present. At least four, probably more."

"_Clarion, Macross. We have no indications of Valkyries in the area. The birds we dispatched are still two hours out. Can you send me your video feed?_"

"Sure." He patched the video feed into the satellite system. Then waited about thirty seconds, before Misa's voice came back on.

"_Clarion, Macross. We've confirmed, no other Valkyries should be present. And the markings on those Valkyries aren't ours._"

Ranma's scowl deepened. "Has the Valkyrie been sold to anyone but the U. N. Spacy?"

"_Not to the best of our knowledge, Clarion; it hasn't been completely declassified, or licensed for ownership for anyone but us. I think we need to assume that they're illegally owned birds._"

"Probably salvaged during the Reconstruction," muttered Ranma.

"_Are they winning?_"

"So far," admitted Ranma. "They seem to—wait. _That's_ not a Valkyrie." He kept the camera trained on the odd man out. It looked a lot like the Lightning he was riding, but considerably smaller. The engine nacelles looked wrong, as well; they were half the size, and seemed to have some sort of gun pod attached, rather than the integral cannon his own bird carried.

"_Confirmed, Clarion. That's a VF-X-2 Icarus. They built three of them, but the project was scrapped before Project FIREBIRD was complete."_

"It's the original THUNDERBIRD," said Ranma quietly. He reconfigured to GERWALK and dropped towards the city.

The raiding force was running, now, being pursued by the assorted variable fighters, and Ranma dropped in behind the Icarus. When it made no hostile movement towards him, he increased his throttles and pulled in alongside him.

The Icarus' pilot glanced over at him, and his commo system pinged at him. He touched a stud on the throttle, and his left-side MFD switched to display a familiar face.

"Max!"

"_Good afternoon, Commander Saotome._" Max tossed him a mock salute. "_Just taking care of a little problem that you lot can't handle._"

"I can't say I object to your goals," said Ranma, "but your methods are, unfortunately, illegal. Where did you get these birds?"

"_We found them,_" replied Max. "_And we fixed them up. You like my ride?_"

"Max, I understand your frustration with the Malcontent issue," said Ranma. "But this isn't the way to handle it."

"_It seems to me, Commander, that this is the_ only _way to handle it._" Max glanced to the side, then looked back up. "_At any rate, this bunch are on the run, and I think we can break it off here. Don't try to follow us, Commander. We've got you seriously outnumbered, and I can see that your weapons are exercise rounds. With your cannon alone, you won't last long._"

Glumly, Ranma had to agree with Max's assessment. He pulled back gently on the stick, bringing the Lightning off the deck.

"Max, you know that the U. N. Spacy can't let you do this. They _will_ find you, and they will stop you. If you can bring your bunch back into the fold, maybe we can work something out. Lord knows we could use the extra birds—"

"_As long as the U. N. Spacy persists in allowing the Malcontents to run amok, we can't work with them._" Max shook his head. "_We'll be taking the fight directly to the Malcontents, not merely waiting for them to act before responding._"

"Looks like you were responding today, Max."

"_Don't you think we could have wiped out this entire force? We're letting_ some get away, hoping they'll lead us right back to their base."

Ranma sighed, and aimed his jet towards the base. His tanks were nearly empty, and he'd need to refuel before returning to Macross City.

* * *

Four hours later, he was being debriefed by Misa and Admiral Global. Nabiki was off to the side, flipping through papers.

"The hell of it is, I can understand his viewpoint," said Ranma. "It's basic to every tactical scenario. The side that is forced to respond, rather than initiate, is going to lose."

Nabiki nodded. "It's the same in chess, too. Never make a purely defensive move."

"But that's what we're doing with the Malcontents," said Ranma. "If they've got some kind of organized center, we need to be smashing it, not just responding to them if and when it happens."

"Unfortunately," said Misa, "The U. N. Spacy's charter clearly states that we can only carry out offensive missions within areas strictly under U. N. control. If we want to operate anywhere else, we need permission from the host government."

"If Kamjin and his gang of pirates have a central base, it's probably nowhere that there's any functioning government," said Ranma. "Wouldn't that count as U. N. territory?"

"And you said you didn't understand politics," said Nabiki. She grinned, then touched her remote. A map appeared on the display screen. "The bunch that Max and company were chasing were proceeding along two-eight-five, which puts them somewhere in Ontario, Manitoba or Saskatchewan. Unfortunately, this is area controlled by the Dominion of Canada.

"Fortunately for us," she continued, "Alaska was part of the United States, and when Washington was flattened from orbit, power devolved to the individual states. They have a responsibility to elect a new President, but until this happens—and you'll note that most of them are still too disorganized to put together elections—power remains in the hands of the state Governors.

"Canada's Constitution actually allows for the decapitation of their government. The current Prime Minister is a Member of Parliament for the Yukon Territory; he's the head of the territorial party. Since the national parties were all wiped out, and his party holds the majority in what's left of their Parliament, he was automatically elevated to Prime Minister, and he's already selected his new Governor-General. For all the good that's worth," she said wryly, "as the Royals were just as decapitated. King William hasn't even returned to Great Britain for coronation yet."

"Let me guess," said Ranma. "Canada won't let us operate within their borders."

"Prime Minister Facciol has refused to allow us to carry out a strike unless he is convinced we have the right target," said Nabiki. "However, this band is probably _not_ Kamjin's gang."

There was a brief silence, then Admiral Global shifted in his seat. "Thank you for the lesson in international politics, Colonel Tendo. What can we do about these vigilates?"

"We managed to track them via satellite," said Nabiki. "They followed the Malcontents back to their base of operations, and wrecked the joint. They then turned due south, but we lost satellite coverage on them before they reached their destination."

"So we don't even know where they're based out of," said Ranma disgustedly. "This sucks."

"I didn't say that." Nabiki grinned tightly. "There's an old storage and repair facility in Florida. They had, among other things, all three of the VF-X-2 prototypes."

"Max will be clever enough to have moved from that facility," said Misa.

"Probably," admitted Nabiki. "But we should still check it out. They might have left information behind, showing where they were going next."

Ranma stood. "I can check it out. Just give me a team and a bird, and I—"

Misa shook her head. "No, Ranma. You can't. You're off the combat roster."

His jaw gaped. "Why am I off the roster?"

"Because you're not officially assigned to a combat squadron," said Misa. "You're a test pilot now."

"You don't have anyone else that can take down Max," countered Ranma.

"Like Misa said," butted in Nabiki, "he won't be there." She shook her head sadly. "Trust me, Ranma, I know how much this bothers you, but Misa's right. We can't send you out on this mission."

Ranma ground his teeth, then snapped to attention. "Then I request transfer to a combat squadron."

Misa nodded. "Your request is noted. Hopefully, by the time we have Max pinned down, we can send you out after him."

* * *

He stormed out of the HQ building, fists balled and a scowl etched on his face.

"Ranma?"

He blinked, and glanced over to see Claudia, who was looking at him with some concern.

"Oh, hi, Claudia." He waved half-heartedly.

"Something the matter?"

He didn't know if the issue with Max was outside of her classification compartment. "Yeah. There's a combat mission coming up that I want to be a part of, but I can't. Because I'm not in a squadron."

"The thing with Max?"

Okay, if she knew about it, she probably was cleared into it. "I can understand where he's comin' from, but he's goin' about dealin' with it the wrong way."

"I can tell you're really worked up about it," said Claudia. "Your Basic is slipping."

"Sorry." He grinned sheepishly. "I tend to fall back into bad habits when I'm mad."

"Why don't we head down to Variation, and have a cup of tea?"

He frowned. "I'd love to, Claudia, but Variation is a bit too open for this discussion. There's classified elements, that I don't want to discuss in an open forum like that."

"Then why don't we go to my place." She winked. "I promise we won't be seen by Misa, Milia, or Minmay."

"Or my Mom," grumbled Ranma, "or she'll try hooking you up with me as well."

* * *

"I enjoy test-piloting," said Ranma. "And I know it's important, since every problem we catch at this stage means one less problem to worry about when the bird is finally deployed. Plus, we need to know exactly what the airplane is capable of before it's deployed, so our pilots know how to handle it properly."

"But you'd rather be flying combat?" asked Claudia.

"At the moment, yeah," said Ranma. "Plus, I haven't gotten a promotion since the war ended."

"We're more or less on a peacetime footing," said Claudia. "Promotions were more rapid during the war, because we had to promote to fill holes in the TO and E caused by casualties." She looked down at her tea. "Like Hikaru, to replace Roy."

"I was in hack when he was promoted," said Ranma. "Or I would have had that slot."

She looked up, an odd smile on her face. "Actually, Ranma, you wouldn't have. Oh, you were considered for it, and they disregarded the fact that you were in hack at the time, but they chose Hikaru because he has fewer black marks on his record."

Ranma blinked.

"You've got a bad habit of going off the reservation," said Claudia. "Hikaru never has. Oh, he's got a smart mouth on him, and he's green as grass—he's only been a soldier for three years now, whereas you signed up back in ninety-five. Hell, you basically formulated variable fighter doctrine right from the start, during PAINTED GLOVE. Plus, you'd been through the Anti-Unification War, you led the first mission into _Macross_...so yes, on the basis of your qualifications, you should have had the slot.

"But your qualifications aren't the only thing they look at," she continued. "That little stunt with Shelter Seventeen was brought up. I tried to cover for you, but the Captain saw right through it."

"I remember," he said. "He brought it up at my board when I screened for Squadron Lieutenant."

"And before that, there was the incident on South Ataria Island, when you convinced your Lieutenant to let you go in alone. Not exactly the Army way. Your various pieces of mail to Misa, before she came to South Ataria. Every time they had to censor something, a note was made in your file. The way you slapped down Misa, during the Cat's Eye incident. She didn't file a complaint, but all radio traffic was recorded, and a note was made. Bringing back Ling Kaifunn—"

"Knew that was a mistake," he muttered.

"All of it added up," said Claudia. "And going berserk on Milia, after she shot down Roy...it was the final nail in the coffin. For that matter, slapping around Kaifunn didn't help your record. Nor did your beating up Milia, when you caught her aboard _Macross_. I'm really sorry to say this, Ranma, but test pilot is the only place left where you have a prayer of a promotion. You're one of our best fighters, Ranma, but as a soldier, you're not very good."

"I nearly got kicked out of Basic," he said. "I kinda figured then that I wasn't the best fit for the Army. But it was all I could do."

Claudia nodded. "I can understand that."

He paused to sip his tea. "And I don't really care about promotions. I enjoyed training up the newbies. Training was the focus of my early education. I was taught, right from the time I could walk, to be a martial arts instructor."

Claudia frowned. "And what does that have to do with promotions?"

"You gotta be a Commander to be put in charge of a cadre unit," said Ranma. "I've got the rank, but they've never given me a cadre squadron."

"And you think you'd enjoy that job?"

"The third Flight of the Jolly Rogers was essentially a cadre unit," said Ranma. "Like I said, I enjoyed that work. But unless the Fireflies have an opening for a new Commander, I won't get it. The next option is a Commandant of one of the three training schools, but you need Colonel rank for that. And I seriously doubt I'm gonna reach Colonel rank."

"Plus, there's less hands-on work in that job," said Claudia. "You spend more time shuffling paper than you do in the cockpit."

He made a face. "I hate paperwork."

She laughed. "Then it's a wonder that you made officer at all!"

Her face turned a bit more serious. "Now, how are you and Milia working out?"

"You just live to play matchmaker, don't you?"

"Of course," she said sweetly.

"Well, we're not really serious. Milia wants to explore dating, and she said that she feels safer exploring with me."

Claudia raised an eyebrow. "She said that?"

"I'm paraphrasing," said Ranma. "But it's essentially what she said."

"Still, it sounds like a very familiar story," said Claudia. "About like what the situation between—"

She was cut off by the beeping of her comm. She looked disgusted, then set down her tea. "That's the base code. Why would they—"

She was cut off again, this time by the alert sirens. Ranma cursed under his breath, set down his tea, and hopped to his feet.

"They're playin' our song, Claudia. Time to go earn our princely salaries."

* * *

Misa was in the officer's mess when the alert came in. It took her all of three minutes to reach the command center.

"Status?" She still held a half-eaten tuna fish sandwich in one hand.

"Zentraedi force in battalion strength attacking, Ma'am." Shammy glanced at her ready board. "Skull is engaging them in the city, and we're moving up Fourth Cavalry to support them."

"Against a full battalion, they're going to be outclassed," mused Misa. She glanced over to Vanessa. "Who else can we get in there?"

"Nobody," admitted Vanessa. "We're stretched out all over the place. Only the Skull is based out of Macross City anymore."

_Damn, I should have_ known this was going to happen!

"Commander Saotome on three, Colonel."

She nodded, and checked her headset. "Go ahead."

"_Misa, it's Ranma. If you can arrange a ride for me—"_

"We just don't have the birds right now," she said. The anger she felt was coming out in her voice, and she hoped desperately that he didn't feel it was directed at him. "What Destroids are you current on?"

"_Destroids?_" He paused. "_I was trained in Spartan and Tomahawk operations, but I'm not technically current on any of them. What about my_ Queaddlun-Rau_?_"

"Not properly assigned yet, and since it _is_ a Zentraedi robot, I can't just snap my fingers and clear it for you." She glanced at Vanessa's board. "Fourth Cav has three spare Tomahawks and a spare Spartan. Part of their unassigned pool. Report to Depot Six and log yourself in."

"_Can you send me a gunner for the Tomahawk?_"

"Fourth Cav might have one to spare. If not, I'll see what I can scratch up. Hayase, clear."

She waved at Vanessa, who closed off the channel before Ranma could say anything else. "Chief Kabriov. Do we have any idea who these jokers are?"

"I'm afraid we do, Ma'am." Kim thumbed a control, and an image appeared on the screen. A white and red _Glaug_.

"Kamjin."

She bit her lip, then turned back to Shammy. "Any luck finding a gunner for Commander Saotome?"

"No," said Shammy. "But we got him cleared into a Tomahawk. Fourth's reserve Spartan is down for maintenance."

"Damn. He could solo in a Spartan." She scowled again, then said, "Well, we've broken one reg so far, putting him in a Destroid. Let's break another. Get Diplomatic on the comm."

* * *

Like over half the fighter pilots in the U. N. Spacy, Ranma had very little direct history with the massive ground-pounding units of the Cavalry forces. The Destroids were earlier combat robots, introduced a year before the Variable Fighters, and lacked the mobility to properly counter the Zentraedi. However, their armour was the next best thing to indestructible, and they carried more firepower than a wing of Valkyries.

He snapped the heavy breast-and-back armour plate in place, then swung his arms about to make sure they were not _too_ badly impeded. Then glanced to where the ready teams were prepping the Destroids.

Charlie Platoon was the only unit not yet deployed. Like the Marines that he'd served in so long ago, each Platoon was formed of six Destroids, each performing one vital role. The three Spartans were the front-line combatants, and carried a mix of hand-held weaponry. Two of them carried GU-11 cannons, and one carried a 966-PFG autocannon in a dual-grip configuration, like an oversized squad assault weapon.

The Tomahawks were the heavy hitters, armed with long-range particle beam cannons, and a host of shorter-ranged missiles, cannons, lasers, flamethrowers, grenade launchers, you name it. They were _painted_ in guns. They were also the most heavily armoured of the Destroids on the line; only the Monster had more armour, and there were none of those present.

The sixth Destroid in the platoon was a Defender, a purpose-built anti-aircraft robot. Four of the air-cooled 966-type autocannons, two each per arm, with variable-time fuses, could set up a massive flak barrage, and the huge radar boom mounted over the cockpit allowed the robot to pick up—and then pick off—enemy aircraft at twelve kilometers range. Against the overly mobile and exceedingly flimsy _Regult_, the Defenders had performed remarkably well.

There was a seventh Destroid present, another Tomahawk, which lacked a Platoon badge. Fuelers were pulling hoses from ports, and ordies were loading boxes of shells into the chest-mounted autocannon.

"Excuse me, Sir."

He turned, to see a Sergeant in Cavalry colours. The man snapped off a salute, and he returned it.

"Sergeant Qing, Sir, Fourth Cav Charlie. They told us you'd be joinin' us." He hesitated, then asked, "Will you be taking over the Platoon?"

Ranma shook his head. "No, Sergeant. I'm not Cav, and I won't be able to co-ordinate with the rest of the Fourth."

"Yes, Sir." The relief in Qing's face was obvious, and Ranma fought to avoid chuckling.

"On the other hand, they told me that you might be able to scratch up a spare gunner for me."

Qing sighed. "I hate to let you down, Sir, but—"

"But you don't have the men to spare."

"We're a short company," said Qing. "Only three Platoons, instead of the regulation six, until they give us enough replacement rides to fill us out. So our people end up getting poached—and they always take our best."

"I dunno about that, Sergeant. You're still here." Nothing like an ego boost. "Okay, HQ told me they'd try to get someone out to help me. If they can't..." He shrugged. "I've sat out battles before."

"But you never liked to, right, Sir?" A horn sounded behind them, and Qing hastily saluted again. "Gotta run, Sir."

"Go get 'em, Sarge."

He turned and walked towards the waiting Tomahawk. The service gantry was in place at the cockpit, and he quickly climbed the ladder. But he didn't get in yet; the gunner sat in the forward seat, and had to get in first.

_That wasn't terribly well thought out...maybe they had to do it for some other design reason._

A Corporal was finishing the electronics check, down in the pilot's chair, and he snapped his portable terminal shut and climbed out. "All ready for you, Sir."

"Except for the lack of a gunner," he said.

"Maybe that's him there?"

Ranma followed the Corporal's finger, and saw another battle-armoured form running towards the Destroid. His eyes narrowed. "That's not a him, Corp. It's a her."

"Try not to get too distracted, Sir." The Corporal grinned. Ranma snorted.

"As if. Oh, yeah, you guys don't know me, do ya?"

"You came within a whisker of winning Miss Macross, Sir. And I voted for you."

"I guess you do." He watched as the gunner climbed up the service gantry, and his frown deepened. "I think I know her. Her movements are familiar."

She stopped, and pulled off her helmet. Her long green hair was pinned up, in deference to the armour, and she snapped off the Zentraedi salute.

"Reporting for duty, Sir."

"Milia, what the hell are you doing here?" He laughed. "Did Misa actually break a regulation? You're not even part of the Spacy!"

"Technically, Diplomatic Corps is part of the U. N. Spacy," said Milia. "And I am still a warrior."

"Yeah, but you can't be checked out on a Tomahawk."

"As a pilot, I could not possibly handle it," admitted Milia. "But as a gunner...you will merely have to familiarize me with the systems."

"I can handle that," he said. "Okay, get down and into the front seat."

She saluted again, then donned her helmet and crawled in. The Corporal watched her, then turned to Ranma.

"Sir, ain't she a Zentraedi?"

"Yes, Corporal, she is."

"And we're gonna put her in a Tomahawk?"

Ranma turned to face him directly. "Corporal, she defected. That means she's on our side now. Plus, I know her very well; I've been training her for two years. So I think we can trust her. Plus, she tried to kill me the first time we met."

"And for that, you think you can trust her?"

"No," said Ranma. "I trust her for other reasons. But if _I_ trust her, and she tried to kill me, don't you think _you_ can trust her, when she's never tried to harm you in the past?"

"I guess so," said the Corporal, but his voice betrayed him. Ranma sighed.

"Never mind. Starting up."

He jumped into the cockpit and began the start-up sequence. The massive MT828 reactor started to growl, and indicator lights came up red, then shifted to green as systems checked out. He snapped his feet into the leg actuators, the clips on the pedals connecting to the sockets in his armour.

Milia was looking over the targeting system. "The range-finding radar and weapons interlink are similar to those on a _Queaddlun-Rau._"

"Considering that we captured one well before this machine was designed, I ain't surprised," said Ranma. "But a _Queaddlun-Rau_ has only four guns. This thing has twelve."

She grabbed the dual joysticks, and checked the movement ranges and targeting reticle. "The targeting ring matches those on the _Valkyrie!_ training simulation. I think I can handle this system without instruction."

"Your visual systems are controlled from that panel by your left knee. Telescopics on the top half, IR on the lower half. The thumb wheel on the left stick controls the zoom function."

"Noted."

The service gantry was being retracted, and Ranma reached up and pulled the hatch lever. The hatch slid into place, sealing the Tomahawk, and he finished his roll-out check. Atmosphere pressure good; reactor mass full; reactor pressure nominal; jump jet fuel full. "Okay, Milia. We're ready to move out."

He checked to ensure his departure path was clear, then pushed the throttle forward. The Tomahawk shifted gears, the leg drivetrain engaging, and started marching towards the exit.


	36. Chapter ThirtyFive: Scars

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Thirty-Five: Scars**

**May 30th, 2012**

The defending forces were badly outnumbered.

A battalion of Zentraedi combat robots was six hundred _Regult_ combat pods, twenty-five _Regult_ artillery pods—twenty light, five heavy—six _Regult_ reconnaissance pods, one hundred _Nousjadeul-Ger_ powered armour troopers, and three _Glaug_ officer's battle pods. While all of these robots were very flimsy, the defenders had eighteen Valkyries and nineteen Destroids of various sorts to fight them off.

"Target, _Regult_, two o'clock." Ranma stomped the right pedal, and the Tomahawk turned towards the Zentraedi robot. He pulled the right-hand stick back, and the Tomahawk pivoted at the hip joint, bringing it face-on to the _Regult_.

"Range two hundred ten." Milia selected her particle cannons and pulled the trigger. The beam from the right arm smashed through the pod, killing it and its pilot.

"Kill." Ranma stomped the left pedal, putting the Tomahawk back on its original course. "Twenty two hundred meters to station. ETA five minutes thirty."

"Five hundred _mil_," said Milia.

"I can't do the conversion in my head," groused Ranma. "Target, _Regult_. Twelve o'clock."

"Range fifty-five." She scowled. "Particle cannons are refusing to fire."

"You're too close," said Ranma.

Milia spun the weapon select dial, and pulled the triggers. The two 25mm cannons roared, peppering the _Regult_ with high-explosive incendiary shells. The _Regult_ ducked back under cover, and Ranma pushed the Tomahawk after it.

_Rather surprising that we're working so well together,_ he mused. _Like we'd been fighting as a team for more than a year, not simply sparring in the dojo._

He rounded the corner...and learned that the _Regult_ had led them into a trap. Six more _Regults_, one of them a light artillery model, were waiting for them.

Milia wasted no time. She activated the homing missiles, painted two targets—both of them standard _Regult_ units—and fired off two Coral Snake missiles. The Tomahawk's leg packs were loaded with Stilettos; she fired off four, not bothering to aim them. And she trained both particle cannons on the Artillery Pod.

The Zentraedi were not waiting to be destroyed, however. The six _Regult_ pods—including the damaged one that they had chased in here—opened fire with their particle beam cannons. Ranma stomped the left paddle, and the Tomahawk dodged to the left, its torso rotating to keep the weapons systems pointed towards the Zentraedi robots. Two beams still struck the Tomahawk, one in the chest and one in the right arm.

He glanced down at the damage report, cursing the fact that he did not have a _third_ person aboard—there was room for such, and the third seat was dedicated to engineering and damage control. The hit to the arm had not penetrated the armour, but the shot to the torso had struck the right gun bay. Of the weapons in that bay, only the laser was showing as active.

Milia's missiles struck, destroying three Pods, and her particle cannons smashed into the Artillery Pod. It had already launched four missiles at them, but she engaged them with her gun clusters, shooting them down one by one. The last was exploded almost within attack range, and it splashed the Destroid with fragments—none of them large enough to penetrate the armour.

The three remaining Regults ducked back under cover, two going to the left, one to the right.

"Are these buildings inhabited?"

"No," he replied. "The city was evacuated, but—"

She pulled at the control sticks, angling the arms left and right, and pulled the trigger. The particle cannons fired _through_ the office buildings, retaining enough energy to cripple one Pod on each side. Ranma cursed, but didn't hesitate; he threw the Destroid into a run, pulling it around the left-side building. Milia engaged the autocannons again, and hammered the remaining Pod into junk.

"Problem, Commander?"

"Yes, there's a problem, Milia!" He tried to keep himself calm. "The evacuation order was given, but if there were any stragglers in those buildings, they could have been killed! Not to mention that now we have to repair those buildings!"

"Humans excel at rebuilding," she said.

"Well, I'm gonna make sure you're on that repair crew," he said. "Plus, particle feedback may have damaged the particle cannons."

"I have all green lights on that weapon system."

"So do I," he admitted. "But keep it in mind next time, okay? Try not to wreck the city."

"I shall remember."

And the good news was, she _would_. He glanced back at his nav system. "The line of battle has passed our position. We can hit 'em from the rear." He snorted. "For all the good it'll do with only one Destroid."

* * *

"Charlie Flight has been completely destroyed." Claudia was looking rather worried. "The Skull is out of missiles and gun ammo, and Commander Ichigyo requests he be allowed to return and rearm."

"Alpha Flight may rearm," said Misa. "Bravo Flight will remain on the front lines until Alpha returns."

"Fourth Cav has had its Alpha Platoon wiped out," continued Claudia. "Bravo Platoon is holding their sector, in addition to its own. Charlie Platoon, and Commander Saotome, are nearly at the front line, but they've been dealing with a Zentraedi breakthrough."

"Status of Charlie Platoon?"

"Two Spartans damaged, one Tomahawk damaged. However, all three units are still combat capable."

"And Commander Saotome?"

"He's lost his starboard gun bay, but other than that, in good form."

Misa bit her lip. "There's still over six hundred out there, and we've lost twelve units. We can't keep up that rate of attrition."

"We haven't got any more units to field."

"Status of the Black Aces?"

"They're just clearing the ground," said Shammy. "ETA is forty minutes."

"This will be over long before they get here," said Vanessa.

"What about conventional forces?"

Claudia shook her head. "Sorry, Misa, but all we have is infantry. That would be like sending lambs to the slaughter."

"Outfit them with LAWs, then deploy them at the recloning chamber, and outside this building," said Misa. "They are not to engage unless the Zentraedi attempt to steal the recloning system, or attack this building."

"Commander!" Kim's voice was shrill. "I've got six more incoming variable fighters, but no IFF readout on them. Their transponders are down, as well."

"How do you know they're variable fighters, then?"

"I have visual, Ma'am." She put it up on the main screen, and Misa gasped.

Five of them were obviously Valkyries, but they had no unit designation, not even U. N. Spacy markings. Instead, they were painted in a jungle camouflage that had never appeared on a Valkyrie. However, the sixth did a fine job of identifying their affiliation.

It was an Icarus.

"It's the Vigilantes."

* * *

"Okay, boys, just like we rehearsed."

The six variable fighters tipped nose down, and began dropping bombs. Without access to the latest in Spacy missiles, the Vigilantes had been forced to improvise. Luckily, the Valkyrie had been designed before the latest crop of missiles had come out, and still had the software required for older weapons. Such as the cluster bomb units they now deployed.

The Zentraedi line of battle was still mostly outside the city. Two platoons of Destroids were holding them back, as well as a flight of Valkyries. Max had felt a ping of regret, seeing the skull and crossbones on their tailplanes. The up-shot of this, however, was that the Zentraedi were in a reasonably tight grouping.

The Rockeye cluster bombs were fused to burst two hundred meters off the ground. Two of the Vigilantes were off altitude when they deployed, however, and the pattern was uneven. But they were graphically effective none the less. Each submunition was ten kilograms of high explosive, with a fragmenting jacket wrapped around it. One was not enough to kill a Battle Pod, but three or four bursting nearby would wreck their legs—the weakest part of the Pod—and each Rockeye carried thirty-two submunitions.

And each Valkyrie carried six Rockeyes. His own Icarus carried only four, but that still totalled over a thousand submunitions.

In total, almost two hundred Zentraedi Battle Pods went down, their combat capability reduced practically to zero.

The Vigilantes broke off from their attack run, scrabbling hard to get out of the area before return fire arrived. They didn't quite make it; Five was struck by particle cannon fire, his ship coming apart, though Kerr managed to eject. The Vigilantes turned back towards the fight, lighting up their radars, and Max brought his AMRAAM missiles online.

He painted a _Glaug_ and fired off a missile. The AMRAAM was fire-and-forget, so he immediately started tracking another—a suit of powered armour—and fired a second. Both missiles hit; the powered armour was torn in half, killing its operator, but the Officer's Pod remained combat-capable, and returned fire with its top-mounted particle cannon.

Max slewed the fighter, dodging the fire, and selected his wing-mounted gun pods. The M61 20mm cannons hammered at the target, but didn't have the penetration to kill the machine. He flipped the weapon selector to his high-powered LASER cannon, and fired. One beam ripped the left arm off the pod; the second smashed in the nose sensor.

The _Glaug_ was effectively out of the fight; without the nose sensor, it was unable to target. Max turned his attention to the large number of Battle Pods, and selected the 20mm cannons again. He laid down a strafing column, tearing into it with cannon fire, and watched with satisfaction as seven Battle Pods exploded.

_At least these little popguns can kill the Battle Pods._

* * *

"The Vigilantes have managed to wipe out thirty-two percent of the attacking force," reported Vanessa. "They've lost one Valkyrie. Skull Alpha reports on the ground and getting refitted; they'll be back on the lines in two minutes."

"What are they reloading with?"

"Jackhammer Charlies."

Misa nodded. "Good." She turned to Claudia. "Contact Commander Saotome, then patch him through to me."

* * *

"_Commander Saotome, Gunsight One._"

"Go ahead, Gunsight One."

"_I'm certain you've noticed our uninvited guests._"

Ranma grinned tightly. "At least they're on our side."

"_Skull Alpha will be en route to your position in one minute. They will be deploying Jackhammer Charlies. If the Vigilantes show any sign—any at_ all_—of engaging them, you are to shoot them down._"

"Understood."

"_And Ranma...if we can track them back to their home base, I will be sending you after them._"

"The Renegade front line appears to be advancing towards us," said Milia. She twisted the Tomahawk's turret, bringing her particle cannons to bear, and quickly dispatched two Battle Pods.

"_Fourth Cav, Gunsight One. The Zentraedi have taken the recloning chamber and are falling back. Recapture the chamber if you can, or destroy it._"

"Crap," snarled Ranma. "They can out-run us no problem."

"We can stop them," said Milia calmly.

"No, we can't," said Ranma. "We don't have the mobility to keep up with them." A Battle Pod leapt clear over their Tomahawk, and Milia swung the machine around, firing a Taipan SAM at it. But ten more jumped past their position, not even bothering to engage them, and ran down the street.

Ranma's earbug crackled to life. "_Fourth Cav, pursue at full speed._" It was the voice of Lieutenant Macklin, CO of the Fourth.

"_Skull Alpha is in hot with Jackhammers."_

"Valkyries can keep up with them," said Ranma. "But all we can do is try to catch them on the way back out."

Milia was lighting up Pod after Pod with the beam-riding RADAR systems, and firing Coral Snakes and Stilettos after them. "I am nearly out of missiles."

"_Commander Saotome, Gunsight One. Proceed to grid reference fifty-four by forty and make pickup on Valkyrie pilot._"

"Well, _that_ we can do, at least." He pointed the Tomahawk towards the indicated grid reference, and advanced the throttles.

It took them two minutes to reach the downed pilot. However, as they came into view, the pilot started crawling away from his chute—he had apparently broken his leg at some point. Ranma frowned.

"Why is this joker tryin' ta run away?"

Milia was fiddling with her controls. "Where is the—oh, here it is." She zoomed in on the pilot. "That does not appear to be a United Nations uniform."

"Which means he's probably a Vigilante." Ranma grinned, and popped his hatch. "Let me just go down there and restrain him."

* * *

Ranma dropped the struggling Vigilante at the MP's feet. "Here ya go. I imagine Colonel Tendo will want to talk to him."

"Thank you, Sir." The MP saluted him, then grabbed the pilot and none too gently escorted him from the docking bay.

Ranma turned as Milia reached the bottom of the ladder. "Well, Guns, I'd say that we did quite well today." He grinned. "Not bad, considerin' you've never used one of these before."

"Indeed," said Milia. Then smiled. "Perhaps a celebratory drink is in order. We can hit Ilya's, or maybe Ben's Pub, then go find out what this city has for night life."

"What—wait." Ranma raised his hand. "Look, Milia, I know we've gone out to the movies twice, but—"

Milia raised a finger and grinned impishly. "Don't worry, I'll pay."

Ranma sighed. "Milia. Look, I like ya. I really do. You're a nice girl. But you ain't dated anyone else since—well, since ever. Shouldn't you...I dunno...explore the field? There might be someone out there you like better."

She frowned slightly. "But it is you that I want. You defeated me."

"I thought we were past that crap!" He threw his hands in the air. "I don't _own_ you! You're free to make your own choices."

"And I have chosen you," she said. Her expression was stern, now. "I cannot force you to choose me—in fact, I cannot force you to do _anything_; you have proven that. My life is my own, as you have told me. But if I wish to spend it with you, can you deny me that wish?"

"Well, I—" He was suddenly at a loss for words.

"I have watched the women in your life," she continued. "Misa has given up on you, which I feel is foolish of her, but I would not think of trying to change her choice. Minmay flirts with you, but you are not for her. Nabiki—"

"_Nabiki?_"

"—loves you deeply, but the scars in your past—and her own—has caused her to push you away." She smirked. "Even Claudia cares for you. Though she feels no romantic attachment to you."

"What do you know about romance?" he snapped. "You came out of a friggin' test tube."

He wished he could bite back the words the moment that he said them.

"Is that truly what bothers you?" She didn't look offended. "That I am an artificial person?"

"No." He sighed. "Hell, most of the time, it never even occurs to me. But Milia, until you started livin' aboard _Macross_, you didn't know squat about our customs or culture. An' since I met you, you've been tryin' ta ape our ways—"

"At first, yes," she said. "Now, I understand them. And I know why Humans pair-bond as they do. To find their complement."

Ranma paused. "You know, this is more like the Milia I know. That crap you were doin' a minute ago, actin' all girly...wasn't really you."

She grimaced. "I saw it on a television program, and thought the approach would please you. It was very...Human."

"I ain't interested in a fake Human," he said.

"Then I shall try a more Zentraedi approach," she said. "We are going to Ilya's." Her tone brooked no refusal.

Ranma shrugged. "Suits. But I'm buyin'."

* * *

An unfortunate accident involving a glass of alcohol—she wasn't sure what kind, but it was mixed with orange juice—had rendered her female about halfway through their 'celebration'. Milia hadn't even blinked. In fact, Ranma had the feeling that she might not even have noticed.

She was staggering slightly, with Ranma's arm around her to keep her mostly upright. Ranma's help was questionable, as the un-metabolized booze in her system had gone straight to her head upon changing form. Losing fifteen kilograms was murder on her alcohol tolerance.

"Just wanna go to bed," slurred Milia.

"Almost there," said Ranma. "Your quarters are just down this street. One more block."

"You said that two blocks ago."

"No, I didn't," said Ranma.

"Ethanol is a poison," said Milia. "Why do Humans enjoy this feeling?"

"You mean you're not enjoyin' it?"

"I am," she admitted. "But I couldn't possibly fight like this."

"Well, don't enjoy it too much," said Ranma. "You didn't even have that much—just three drinks."

"I didn't like the beer," she said. "But the—what was it called?"

"Rye and Coke."

"Yes. It was very poisonous."

Ranma chuckled. "Okay, here's your door. You got your key card?"

"Right here." She pulled it out of a pocket, and ran it through the sensor. The door beeped cheerfully at her, and slid open. "Come on in."

"Ah...I think I'd best not." Granted, she wasn't much more than buzzed, but—

"Don't worry, Ranma." Milia grinned. "You can trust me."

"Just the same."

"Wait." Milia sat down on the step. Ranma sighed, and sat down across from her, cross-legged on the pavement.

"I don't think you know what I mean," said Milia. "In the Zentraedi culture—what passes for culture, that is—you can't trust anyone. That's why we dress the way we do." She indicated her high-collared shirt. "You let a person see too much of your body, they can spot your weaknesses.

"We live in fear of weakness. We fear our superiors. We hate the enemy, hate losing, fear losing...You see?" She shrugged. "The only emotions we're encouraged to have is hatred and fear. Because it makes us better warriors."

"I know," said Ranma. "I remember the first time you wore that sundress—"

"I was terrified," chuckled Milia. "But it wasn't just to make us better warriors. It was to keep us from forming any attash—at_tach_ments." She enunciated the last word slowly. "If we're afraid of each other, we can't trust each other."

Ranma nodded. "But you're learning to trust now, right?"

"I've learned to trust _you_," said Milia. Her fingers were playing with the button at her throat. "Because I put my life in your hands, and you did not end it. Instead, you tried to teach me to be better." She undid the button, then stared down at her hand.

"This is why I've always told you, my life is yours. Because I trusted you with it, and you did not abuse that trust. How can I not trust you now?

"And more than that," she continued. "You have trusted _me_, when I have given you ample reason _not_ to trust me. You knew I wanted to kill you, and still you agreed to help me."

"I was blackmailed," she said quickly.

Milia undid the second button of her shirt. "If I may quote, 'I've already forgiven her. I just don't see why I should care what she does next.'" She looked up again, and smiled. "But regardless, you chose to help me, of your own free will."

Ranma shrugged. "I got a soft spot."

She undid the third button, and Ranma suddenly realized what she was doing. A look of panic spread across the smaller woman's face, and Milia giggled. It was a surprising sound from her; she'd never heard her laugh in genuine amusement before.

"Calm down. I'm wearing an undershirt." She undid the last two buttons, then hesitated. "It's hard to do this, but I want you to see..." She removed the heavy blouse. Her undershirt was fine sink, and clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination, but it was at least opaque.

Milia rubbed at a scar on her right arm, just below the elbow. "You see here? When you ripped the arm off my powered armour, the mechanical damage caused trauma to the arm.

"And here." She touched a discoloured patch of skin, the size of a dime, just above her collarbone. "Where your energy projection melted the metal snap on my collar. To this day, I cannot look at these scars without feeling the shame of defeat." She looked up at Ranma. "When you trust me enough, will you show me your scars?"

She swallowed. "I—I'd like to tell you about Akane."

"These steps are cold and hard," said Milia. "Please. Come in. I'll try to make us some tea."

* * *

**June 6th, 2012**

"The prisoner's name is Christopher Wagner," said Nabiki. "He was an American fighter pilot, United States Navy, prior to the start of the Space War. Invalidated out due to damage to his sight."

"Max can't afford to be choosy," observed Ranma.

"Essentially correct," said Misa. "Plus, he is in no position to criticize a person's lack of visual acuity. Wagner's sight is still above minimums required to operate a Valkyrie, but the United States Navy could be much more selective."

"So where are they?"

Misa grinned at Ranma's impatience. "Remarkably close," she said. "Six hundred kilometers from this base, in northern British Columbia. We've already contacted Prime Minister Facciol with our information, and he's cleared us to conduct a strike against the base."

Ranma nodded. "You've got exact co-ordinates, of course?"

"Of course," said Nabiki. "Mr. Wagner was unwilling to divulge this information, but I applied...pressure."

Ranma abruptly felt the deepest sympathy for Wagner. "So when do we deploy?"

"Eleven hundred hours," said Misa. "However, you still don't have an assigned aircraft." She picked up a folder from her desk—a rather thick folder—and handed it to him. "Now you do. This aircraft isn't the newest in our inventory, but it _is_ a Jaybird. No down gripes at the moment, and the up gripes aren't going to slow you down too much on this mission."

Ranma took the folder, and started flipping through it. "Radar's lost six cells—that ain't so bad. Number five pump understrength—it'll take me two extra seconds to shift to GERWALK. That ain't so good. Gun pod software crashed, can't use the gun in fighter mode. I'll cope."

"It doesn't have a plane captain," said Misa. "It's been a bit of a hangar queen. Get the file to Chief Bell, so she can learn your new airplane."

"It'll be her airplane," said Ranma. "An' if I'm a good boy, and eat all my vegetables, she'll let me play with it once and a while."

Misa turned and indicated the board behind him. "Due to losses on the flight line, Skull Squadron needs a new flight leader for Bravo. I realize that your rank makes you a bit senior for the position."

He shrugged. "I'll cope."

"According to Wagner, the Vigilantes had six functioning Valkyries, plus the Icarus," said Nabiki. "However, they didn't have enough pilots for all seven airplanes. With Wagner in custody, they're down to five active units. Plus, they don't have access to the same weapons as us. Alpha will hold high position over the area, and Bravo will go in on foot. If you can avoid their radar, you should be able to take them by surprise."

Ranma hesitated. "And then?"

"Use your discretion," said Misa. "We don't want a bloodbath. If you can destroy the variable fighters on the ground, we'll consider that a success."

"Good," said Ranma.

* * *

"_Bravo Lead, Skull Lead. Enemy radar is approaching detection strength. I don't think we can get any closer._"

"Roger that, Skull Lead. Bravo flight, reconfigure to Soldier. We'll finish the approach on foot."

"_We ain't so stealthy as you, Lead._"

"Just do your best," said Ranma. "We're only ten klicks away. Even if they pick us up right now, there's no way they can launch birds before we close."

"_Bravo Lead, Alpha Three._" Alpha Three was a G-type Valkyrie, equipped for the electronic warfare role. "_I just got pinged hard, well above detection levels. Lambda-type radar set._"

"That's gotta be the Icarus," said Ranma. "Unless they got a Tico-class cruiser sittin' here in the middle of the forest. Bravo, full run. Alpha, can you provide air support?"

"_Spotted all four Valkyries on the tarmac, Bravo. We're in hot with Jackhammers._"

Ranma nodded, foolish though it was—Ichigyo couldn't see him—and pushed the Valkyrie into a run. The machine was capable of running at fifty kilometers per hour, but the dense forest made it impossible to run in a straight line. He kept one eye on his computer, and realized it was going to take them twenty minutes to reach the base.

He heard a string of pops, like firecrackers. The Jackhammers were Bravo types, disgorging dozens of explosive submunitions—the best choice for attacking grounded airplanes.

"_Two destroyed. The other two are taking off—here comes a third, they musta gotten a driver for it—"_

"_Incoming missiles. I'm punching chaff—"_

"_Five is down. Negative chute._"

"_Jesus, that thing is—"_

"_Bravo Lead, Skull Lead. We are taking fire from the Vigilantes, and they are not, repeat_ not _using obsolete weapons. That Icarus is owning us. Buster!_"

"Bravo Flight, reconfigure to GERWALK and gate. Alpha's in trouble."

He pulled the reconfiguration lever, and the robot shifted around him, into the raptor-like GERWALK configuration. He firewalled the throttle, pushing the airplane up through the canopy—_Bell's gonna have my ass for this one—and pointed his nose towards the firefight._

"_Tallyho! Furball at one o'clock._"

"They're all mixed up in there; we can't use our missiles." Ranma scowled. "Reconfigure to fighter mode, and engage with guns. Eyeball your damn targets before pulling the trigger!"

He didn't reconfigure his own machine; in fighter mode, he couldn't use the gun. But the other five jets in his flight shifted, and poured on the speed.

Even from—he checked his computer—five kilometers away, it was easy to spot Max. He was dancing between the Valkyries, dual gun pods blazing, taking out one opponent after another with precision fire.

And Skull after Skull fell under his guns.

_This can't be happenin',_ he thought furiously. _We got them outnumbered an' outclassed. How can they be winnin'? How can_ he _be winnin'?_

And before he could reach the Vigilante base, the air was clear of Valkyries, both enemy and friendly.

Only Max remained.

Ranma shifted back to Soldier mode, the plasma exhaust from the robot's legs holding it airborne above the canopy. Half a kilometer away, Max did the same.

His center MFD scrambled, and Max's face appeared.

"_I didn't want this, Saotome._"

"I told you, Max, that we'd have to stop you."

"_What does it take to open your eyes?_" Max's eyes narrowed. "_How many innocents have to die? You can be police, or you can be military, but you can't be both._"

"I can't be a cop," said Ranma. "So I'm a soldier. You made the same choice."

"_The U. N. wants us to act like police,_" said Max. "_Police react; the military_ acts."

"The military acts when directed," countered Ranma. "What you and your band was doin' was _wrong._"

"_Like you've never done the same,_" sneered Max. "_Who directed you to rescue Tendo? Who directed you to beat up Ling, or Milia? Who directed you to take that prototype out on a mission?_"

Ranma nodded slowly. "Yeah, I've done the same. An' I regret it." He glanced down at his weapons board. "Last chance."

Max raised his right-side cannon and snapped off a burst. Ranma stomped left rudder, reconfiguring to GERWALK as he slid his Valkyrie out of the path of the tracers. He flipped his master arm ring, and squeezed the weapon release button.

Six GA-23 "Diamondback" missiles dropped from his wings, and howled towards the Icarus. Max casually shot them down, one after another, and fired off two missiles of his own. Ranma toggled his jammers, pumped chaff, then flares. The two missiles shot below and behind him, chasing the flares. He glanced down, and realized where the Vigilantes had gotten their advanced weaponry.

_Standard Zentraedi Type Two missiles._

He cursed, pulling the Valkyrie through a loop, as Max punished him for his inattention. High-explosive incendiary shells punched through the Valkyrie's thin skin, but his damage readouts indicated nothing but the penetrations.

He spared a glance at his battle computer, and cursed as he realized that he was far too close for missiles. He punched the jettison button, cleaning up the airplane, and dove towards Max, gun pod spitting 55mm shells.

But the Icarus had thrusters that were slavishly copied from the single _Queaddlun-Rau_ that Ranma had disabled before the Space War. It could twist and turn with ghastly ease, even in Soldier Mode.

_If only they hadn't cancelled THUNDERBIRD! If I knew that airplane, I could—_

But he knew one much like it, he realized. The Lightning was essentially a larger, more modern version of the Icarus.

_An' that means it has difficulty with negative-alpha maneuvers._

He reconfigured again to Soldier, his Valkyrie dropping like a stone, then back to GERWALK, sliding underneath the Icarus. Then spun on the spot, popping up behind him—

Cannon shells hammered the top of his Valkyrie. His left wing came apart at the wing-root, his right powerplant caught fire. He cursed, and tried to recover the airplane, but it was no use. He reached for the ejection handles, but the jet plowed into the ground before his hands made it.

He shook his head, surprised that he was still alive.

_Smaller airplane, different flow mechanics. Guess he_ could _handle the negative alpha._

Max dropped down in front of him, one gun pod trained on his cockpit. His voice boomed out over the loudspeakers.

"**Game's over, Saotome."**

"I can't do that, Max." He shook his head, then glanced down at the battle computer. The gun pod was still showing ready. If he could get a shot into the cockpit—

He grabbed the stick and pulled. The Valkyrie's arm came up...and was shattered by a hail of cannon fire.

"**Sorry, Saotome. It ends here.**"

Max raised the cannon, sighting down the barrel at his cockpit.

Something was rumbling.

_Ya think of the oddest damn things when you're about to die._

But it apparently had Max's attention as well. The Icarus paused, and took a step back.

A Zentraedi warship, _Queadol-Magdomilla_ class, was passing overhead and to the west.

Ranma flipped on his wrist com. "Yo, Max."

"_I hear you, Saotome._"

"Can we set aside this little feud for now? I think we got bigger problems."


	37. Chapter ThirtySix: Criminal Friends and

_Disclaimer_

_Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me._

_The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me._

_I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me._

* * *

**Wednesday's Child**

**Thirty-Six: Criminal Friends and Foes**

**June 6th, 2012**

Like most Zentraedi warships, the _Queadol-Magdomilla_ class employed a gravitic drive system that was considerably more advanced than any drive used in Terran ships. In space, this gave the Zentraedi a hefty acceleration advantage over the Human fleet, which were equipped with nuclear pulse drives. Even the fusion thermal drives used by the Valkyries were unable to match the raw power of the Zentraedi ships.

However, in atmosphere, they couldn't even break Mach One. And thus, even Max's jet could outrun it handily.

Work crews gaped as the VF-X-2 Icarus dropped onto the tarmac, sliding out and coming to a halt. The canopy popped, and a figure jumped out. He ran over to the nearest electronics technician.

"Gimme a line to headquarters!"

The man stared at him blankly, then noticed the two pips on his flight suit's single rank bar. "Yes, Commander! Uh, right over here..."

Ranma punched buttons, and fidgeted, looking up at the sky.

"_Gunsight Two._"

"Claudia, it's Ranma. Put Misa on the horn."

There was a slight pause. "_All right, Commander. Hold for Gunsight One._"

Ranma scowled, and tapped his foot.

"_Gunsight One._"

"Colonel, Commander Saotome reporting." He fell back on the military comm procedure, in the hopes it would make Misa react more quickly. "There is a Zentraedi ship, _Queadol-Magdomilla_ class, heading in this general direction."

"_What happened to your mission, Commander? The last we heard, most of Skull had been shot down—_"

"_All_ of Skull was shot down, an' me too," said Ranma.

"_What—_"

"We were up against Max, an' he's the best pilot we ever turned out. Listen, that ain't important now. We shut them down pretty good, but someone else is crashin' the party."

"_A Zentraedi warship, you said?_"

"Yeah. I couldn't make out its markings, but it's headed this way."

"_If you were shot down, how are you making this call from Kakizaki field? Even_ you _couldn't run all the way there in less than an hour._"

He drew his breath in; this wasn't going to be pleasant. "Max gave me a lift back."

"What?"

"Look, I told him he'd have safe passage outta here if he could bring me back. Ya gotta honour that."

"_Ranma, he's a criminal!_"

"I know that, but it was the only way I could get the warnin' out. You want I shoulda let that Zentraedi ship catch you by surprise?"

"_No, I suppose you couldn't do that._" She sounded rather abashed. "_Okay, he's got his safe passage. And you're without a ride again._"

"It's not my fault," he protested.

"_Please convey formal request to Mr. Jenius for the reactivation of his commission, in exchange for his assisting us with this threat. I have to go call up some reinforcements. Pray they get here in time._"

"Roger."

"_Gunsight One, clear._"

* * *

Fourth Cavalry had taken a savage beating at the hands of Kamjin's Renegades not even a week ago. However, they sallied gamely to engage the newcomers.

Only twelve Destroids were available out of their usual strength of eighteen, and most of those still had battle damage. But the tech crews worked to ready them, as best they could. Rockets were loaded into launch tubes, ammunition bins filled and primed, and reactor mass topped up for maximum combat endurance. In addition, the three pilots who had survived the destruction of their Destroids in the prior firefight were boarded on one of the reserve Tomahawks, bringing it into the fray. In total, thirteen Destroids of various sorts stood out to meet the enemy.

Of the Valkyrie forces, only Charlie Flight of the Jolly Rogers still had warbirds available. However, the Top Hatters were being called up, and despite the two-hour flight time—on overthrusters all the way—it was hoped that they would have time to refuel before entering battle. If not, they could still fight, though the lack of reaction mass would limit their acceleration.

Ranma watched the frantic preparations, foot tapping impatiently. He finally turned and switched on the viewscreen again. He still couldn't get video to the command post, but—

"Commander Saotome for Gunsight One."

"_Gunsight Two here, Commander. Gunsight One is kind of busy._"

"I need a ride, Claudia," he said. "Can you release the Lightning?"

"_Commander, I'd love to, but unfortunately, the Lightning is still partially torn down._" Claudia sounded apologetic. "_I don't think we can get it back together in time to make a difference._"

"Okay, then. What about spare Valkyries? Or even a Destroid. Fourth still has a spare Tomahawk—"

"_And no gunner for it. Milia's not available._"

"Where is she?"

"_I'm afraid that's classified, Commander._"

Ranma sighed. "Then ya got only one choice. You've gotta release the _Queaddlun-Rau_."

"_I'm afraid that that isn't possible either, Ranma._"

Ranma's scowl deepened. "I can't just sit here and—"

"_I'm sorry, Ranma, but sometimes, that is in fact all we can do._" And her tone was truly apologetic. "_If something becomes available, you're the first we'll call, but I can't just yank someone out of his jet just because you happen to be a better pilot._"

He sighed. "I understand."

"_Keep your wrist comm switched on._"

"Roger that, Gunsight Two. Saotome, clear."

He hung up the handset, and his scowl returned. _Thirty minutes, forty tops, before that battlewagon gets here. And they're leavin' me on the bench._

He blinked, then glanced over to the tarmac, where the VF-X-2 still sat. And grinned.

* * *

"Contact!" sang out Shammy. "Bearing is one three five, range two hundred and fifty miles. Altitude five thousand feet. Designate this contact Uniform One."

"That's almost certainly our bandit," mused Claudia.

Misa crossed over to the sensor officer's console. "Do you have any more information on it yet?"

"Sorry, Ma'am." Shammy shook her head. "They're at the extreme edge of our radar range at this point."

"Bearing is right, though," said Misa. She glanced quickly up at the status board, made note of the current Valkyrie assignments. "Kim. Vector Charlie Two to intercept, and warn them that they are _not_ to fire unless fired upon. Rules of Engagement level two."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Then launch Charlie One to replace them on close BARCAP."

"Contact," said Shammy again. "Bearing is zero nine zero. Eighteen small craft."

"That's got to be the Top Hatters," said Misa.

"Charlie Two confirms ROE level two, and is moving to intercept," said Kim. "Also, Max is moving to intercept."

Misa frowned. "I didn't order him to—"

"I know, Ma'am," said Kim. "He said he could get a lot closer than a Valkyrie, and that he's going to try to ID the ship itself."

"Sounds risky," said Misa. "Well, he's the best pilot we've got."

"Misa!" Claudia looked up in surprise from her console. "I've got Corporal Sanders on the line. She said that Ranma went with Max."

"What? I told him to—" She cut herself off, and tapped her headset, patching it back into the communications net. "Kim, give me Saotome's wrist comm."

* * *

Ranma scowled as his wrist comm chirped at him. He was pretty sure he knew who it was, and he was not looking forward to this. He flipped it open.

"Saotome."

"_Hayase._"

He nodded to himself.

"_I received a report indicating that you have left the airbase with Commander Jenius,_" continued Misa. "_I ordered you to stay on the base._"

"Technically," he said, "you ordered me to keep my wrist comm on. Which I've done."

"_If you want to split hairs like that, at least get your facts straight. It was Lieutenant LaSalle who gave you that order._"

"I stand corrected."

"_Ranma, what the hell do you expect to accomplish?_"

"You need data on that bad guy," said Ranma. "I ain't got no ride, but I still got the best chance of findin' out who that is, an' I think I might be able to stop 'em."

"_Without a ship, how can you expect to—what is that noise? Why am I hearing so much wind?_"

Ranma grimaced. He _really_ wasn't looking forward to her reaction to _this._

"I ain't ridin' in Max's cockpit. There ain't room. I'm ridin' in his fist."

"_His_ fist? _Please tell me you're joking._"

"'Fraid not." He paused as Max shifted to GERWALK, still a thousand meters above the ship. "And by the way, the ship is definitely the bogey we saw. Max is gonna get some pictures of its insignia, and you can identify it by that."

"_And what will you be doing?_"

"My best to stop it. Saotome, clear." He clicked the wrist comm over to Max's frequency. "Yo, Max. Found us a target yet?"

"_I have,_" confirmed Max. "_Any chance of me talking you out of this insane stunt?_"

"That thing is heading straight towards Macross City. I gotta take it down."

"_Very well. Your target is the top service elevator. I've locked in the targeting computer._"

"Okay. Make me a door."

"_Do bear in mind that once I open it for you, there_ will _be some flak._"

"I'll just have to manage."

The Icarus' left hand was clutching its gun pod, and Max pointed it down and pulled the trigger. His first burst tore the hatch covering the elevator open.

Max applied more power, as the cannons on the top of the Zentraedi ship started activating. He pulled ahead of the ship, about half a kilometer, still one full kilometer above it.

Then the right fist opened.

Ranma tucked his arms in close to his side as he fell. Already, balls of energy were rising towards the Icarus from the cannons on the Zentraedi warship. Max veered off, towards the port side, as Ranma fell _through_ the flak, his tote bag fluttering on its shoulder strap behind him.

There was almost nothing that he could do to avoid enemy fire. In free fall, he had very little control over his trajectory. What little he _could_ manage would not be enough to snatch himself away from any incoming fire. Hopefully, Max would keep their attention long enough for him to reach the ship.

Luckily, a thousand meter fall took him only thirty-six seconds.

He threw out his arms, reducing his speed as best he could, and shifted his body to change course slightly. And fell straight through the hole.

Luckily, the service elevator was _not_ near the top. Two ladders, and the four rails upon which the elevator rode, but not the platform itself. He grabbed one of the ladders loosely, his grip on it breaking as soon as he had it, and grimaced at the shock as he smacked into the bulkhead. Then grabbed the next rung, releasing it as well, and dropping more speed. Then the third, and by now he had lost enough speed to bring himself completely to a stop.

He paused to catch his breath, then clicked his wrist comm back on. "Ranma to Max. I'm in, an' I'm stopped."

"_Looks like I owe you two hundred creds._"

"Did you get the pictures?" Ranma fought to get the tote bag back into proper position; it had become tangled in the service ladder after he'd stopped.

"_Yes, I did, and I do not need to transmit them to Colonel Hayase for identification. We know this ship all too well._" The Vigilante leader paused. "_It's Kamjin._"

"Why am I not surprised?" Ranma started making his way down the elevator shaft. "Guy just keeps turnin' up."

"_You sure you're all right?_"

"I am gonna feel it in the mornin', but I'll live."

* * *

"We've lost the link to Ranma's wrist comm," said Claudia. "I can only assume that he's found his way into the Zentraedi ship."

Misa was grinding her teeth, but she managed to keep her voice level. "For all the good it might do him. I hope he's successful, but I can't say I feel good about his chances."

"Intruder vessel will pass two kilometers west of Macross City," reported Shammy. "She will enter cannon range in ten minutes."

* * *

Max pulled on the pole, yanking the Icarus out of the path of the Zentraedi anti-aircraft cannons. Then cursed as a spread of missiles spat from a launcher and angled towards his bird. He pulled back harder, glancing through the 'floor' of the cockpit and using his monocle to track and engage the incoming missiles with his turret laser.

Like the older Valkyrie, the Icarus sported two head lasers, and in fighter mode, they were on the underside of the ship and able to engage anything below the fighter. Unlike the Valkyrie, they lacked the Block Two upgrades that gave them auto-track/auto-engage features, and he was forced to manually aim at each missile before destroying them.

The flak and the missiles he could handle. But what worried him was that they still weren't launching combat robots to deal with him. Either they didn't have the forces to launch, or they were saving them for when they reached Macross City. The first would be a plus, but given how thin on the ground the defenders at Macross were, he hoped it wasn't the second.

* * *

Ranma closed the inspection hatch behind him and paused, listening carefully.

So far, he was certain that the Zentraedi had not yet realized that he was aboard, but taking chances was a good way to get dead. He unzipped the tote bag, and extracted a uniform and a canteen.

He unscrewed the canteen and dumped it over his head, activating the change. Then she discarded the canteen and quickly struggled out of her Spacy uniform. Between her change in size and her now damp status, this was difficult, especially in the cramped confines of a Zentraedi power systems junction. _Luckily, a_ dead _power systems junction, or I could become a crispy critter,_ she mused. She used the Spacy uniform to towel herself off as dry as she could, then pulled off her boxers as well.

The biggest problem that she'd found so far with the female Zentraedi flight suit was its form-fitting nature. The first time she'd tried wearing one, she'd stubbornly insisted on wearing the boxers underneath it, and had discovered that the cloth bunched up under it in a very...uncomfortable manner. Unfortunately, the tight-fitted garment _had_ to be form-fitting, to allow it to interface properly with the _Queaddlun-Rau's_ control systems. And given the irritating nature of the material, designed specifically to be uncomfortable, going without undergarments, and exposing the most sensitive bits of her anatomy to the cloth, was absolutely out of the question.

Without the Zentraedi's body-sock undergarment, she'd been forced to adopt a most unpalatable solution.

She pulled a sports bra and pair of panties from the tote.

* * *

_Now_ they were launching combat robots.

Max cursed, and started firing with the gun pod. Luckily, the ship didn't carry an awful lot of robots to begin, and it quickly became obvious that it was not carrying a full load. However, there were still over three hundred of them emerging. Some were angling to engage him, while others were dropping towards the city.

"Sterling to Gunsight One. You've got about two hundred and fifty incoming bandits from the ship."

"_Roger that, Sterling. Get clear if you can. Any word from Saotome?_"

"Not as yet, Ma'am." He pulled on the stick, putting another fifty-round burst into a Battle Pod. The gun clicked on empty, and he discarded it and drew his second cannon. "I'm running low on ammo. Can you get a GA-33 gun pod prepped for me?"

"_I'll pass the word to Global Field. Now get clear._"

"Roger that."

* * *

"Everybody out, now!"

The engine room had a very small watch, compared to a Human ship, but given the non-technical orientation of most Zentraedi, this was unsurprising. Unfortunately, Ranma's knowledge of the Zentraedi language was limited at best.

She'd just used up half of it.

One of the Zentraedi turned towards him in surprise. His eyes looked down, and he straighened at the sight of a female Zentraedi officer, wearing the uniform and insignia of an Assault Leader. As well as a fistful of chicken guts that Lap'Lamiz had insisted she wear.

"My Lady—" What followed after that was incomprehensible to Ranma, being well outside her command of the language.

"Out, now!" Ranma scowled. "Do it!"

The man snapped to attention, and saluted. He turned to the rest of the Zentraedi and barked an order. Aside from the word for 'out', Ranma recognized none of it.

But the soldiers obeyed. They turned and marched, double-time, out of the compartment.

The Zentraedi officer watched as they left, then turned back to Ranma and asked a question. At least, Ranma assumed, from the soldier's tone, that it was a question.

"Sorry, buddy. I've used up my entire stock of your language."

"A Miclone?" The Zentraedi switched to Basic. "How did you get in here?"

"Through the window," quipped Ranma. "Your boss is on a suicide mission. I'm here to stop him, as peacefully as possible. I figure, if I shut down his reactors, he can't fight. I'm givin' you a chance to help."

"Betray my commanding officer?" The Zentraedi snorted. "You are obviously not fit to wear that uniform."

"Wrong," stated Ranma. She took a step forward. "I am Saotome Ranma, Commander, United Nations Space Administration. I am also Assault Leader of the Fourth Quadrano Battalion, under Commander Lap'Lamiz. And I have defeated Assault Leader Milia Fallyna. And I will stop this ship, with or without your help." She paused. "Do you honestly think you can stop me?"

"Truthfully, no," said the man. He stepped back, and said, "I've wondered about Kamjin's sanity for a while now. Ever since Lap'Lamiz was slain." He pointed towards an array of controls. "Those are for the powerplant. Don't ask me how they work."

"What of your honour?" asked Ranma. "You sneered at me for suggesting that you betray Kamjin."

"That is why I go now to tell him that you are disabling his ship," said the Zentraedi. "It will take me five hundred pulses to reach the bridge. I suggest that you hurry."

* * *

"Kamjin's ship is now within range of the rail cannons."

"Thank you, Shammy." Misa turned. "Vanessa, do you have a firing solution?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Locked in for all six guns."

"Prepare to fire."

"Yes, Ma'am." Vanessa tapped keys, then turned to Kim. "Send to all rail cannon crews: stand to for fire mission."

"Aye aye."

"Gunsight Two, computers are now in auto-acquisition mode. Tracking on all cannons."

"Cannon crews report shells loaded. All guns ready to fire."

"All targeting solutions confirmed by tell-me-three-times. Standing by for time-on-target attack." Claudia glanced over at Misa. "Ready to fire."

"Fire!"

Three of the massive rail guns roared. The shells were inert steel, bridging a gap across two thick metal rails, forming a primitive homopolar electric motor. Primitive in concept, not in effect; the shells were five kilograms, and left the muzzles of the cannon at nine times the speed of sound, leaving a trail of plasma behind them.

A split second later, two more cannon roared, then a sixth and final gun. All guns had had their firing times adjusted so that all six rounds arrived at precisely the same time.

Of course, they _were_ inert projectiles, but after considering drag, each one arrived with over four hundred and seventy kilojoules of force. Not much compared to explosives, but all of it was directed into the target's hull.

All six bounced off harmlessly.

"Rail gun fire ineffective at this range," said Shammy.

"Stand by Skylord batteries," said Misa. "Clear the fire zone of all our combat robots, then launch twelve Skylords. Kim, order all rail cannon crews to reload and recharge."

* * *

Ranma stared at the controls in front of her.

Despite her bravado, there were two very important barriers between her and the planned engine shutdown. The first was the fact that she could not read Zentraedi. She could barely _speak_ it. She could hit buttons and pull levers at random, which would likely do the engine no good whatsoever, but until the ship lost power, she'd never know if she'd done any good. And such random button-pushing could cause something to go terribly awry, with horrible results for her.

The second problem was the size of the controls. She might be able to hit a button by jumping on it. However, she could never pull one of the massive levers. She was strong, but the angles were all bad.

But she was also running out of time.

She bit her lip, then ran towards the generators themselves. At least, she hoped that they were the generators. They were large, and humming with power, but that was all she could tell.

Still, the ship probably needed them to operate.

She examined the devices, then leaped up on top of one. It took her a few seconds to find what she was looking for.

A heat sink.

Anything this large and with this amount of power running through it _had_ to produce waste heat. And said heat had to be vented somehow. She didn't know where this heat went, but she could feel it.

She stepped back, and focused a _mouko takabisha_ at the duct. The blast tore it open, and superheated steam blasted outwards. Ranma grinned tightly, and began generating cold _ki_.

* * *

"Ma'am, all railguns report ready to fire."

"Thank you, Kim. Shammy. Range to target?"

"Fifteen kilometers."

"Alert me when it breaks ten."

"Yes, Ma—" Shammy broke off. "Ma'am, the enemy ship is..." She bit her lip, and punched a button. The main screen shifted, showing a radar position-over-time plot.

Misa stared at the plot. For lack of any better word, the ship seemed to be...staggering.

"What's going on?"

"Not sure," said Shammy.

"The ship's movement is consistent with gravity drive failure," reported Vanessa. "It's losing speed."

"Did we damage it?"

"Negative," reported Shammy. "No structural damage visible at any impact point from gunfire. And none of the Skylords got within detonation range."

"Well, _something_ sure as hell went wrong," mused Misa. "Time to ten-kilometer mark?"

"A lot lower now, Ma'am," said Shammy. "She's altered course, and is coming straight for us."

* * *

Ranma staggered upright, and shook her head.

The _hiryuu shouten ha_ had wrecked all the coolant towers along this range of equipment, and the machines were obviously taking it poorly. The noise level had increased, and a warning klaxon was going off. She staggered to her feet, and ran for the door.

Something triggered an emergency circuit somewhere, and the door ahead of her began sliding shut. She put all of her power into a leap, clearing the door before it slammed down.

She rolled, recovered her feet, and glanced around. The ship was still on a level course, though she could feel lots of extra vibrations through the deck. She hadn't done enough to stop it.

_Well, I got one more shot open to me._

She turned and ran towards the nose of the ship.

* * *

Unfortunately, the door to the bridge was sealed, and Ranma was far too short to reach the controls. Fortunately, there were air ducts.

She kicked the duct grate open, and stepped out onto the bridge. There were three Zentraedi present.

One was Kamjin. He turned at the noise, and sneered.

"The Miclone Zentraedi warrior, who speaks in the Miclone tongue. Could it be that you are yourself a resident of this pathetic planet?"

"I am," said Ranma. "And I've come to stop you."

"_Stop_ me?" Kamjin's smirk widened. "You stupid little bitch. All I want to do is _leave_ this miserable mudball."

"...Leave?"

"Of course!" He turned and gestured towards the screen. "You Miclones are welcome to it. The Zentraedi have a glorious future ahead of them, made even more glorious by the removal of that idiot Bodolze from our path."

Ranma gaped at him. "You mean we could have just ignored you, let you fly by, and—"

"Savour the irony, Miclone. This was just the most convenient flight corridor."

"I don't buy it," said Ranma. "You're travellin' diagonal across the planet's direction of spin, and you're also off course from the ecliptic."

"If this were not a gravity-propelled ship, that might matter."

"No," said Ranma. "Nobody wastes power like that. What are you _really_ up to?"

"No faith in me, Miclone?" Kamjin shook his head. "How unfortunate."

One of the other Zentraedi spoke up. "We're in range, Sir."

"Excellent," said Kamjin.

Shock froze her for an instant, as she realized what had happened. Kamjin had stalled her, long enough to set up his own attack. Her eyes flicked to the screen, which showed the ship's target.

"Fire."

Ranma leaped towards the officer, but all he had to do was press a button.

A tongue of blue flame leapt from the nose of the ship and smashed into the Macross City military headquarters.

* * *

"Misa!"

Misa shook her head groggily. "What happened?"

"We took a hit to Headquarters." Vanessa was hovering over her, one hand on her head—no, one hand holding a dressing to her head. "Floors fifteen and above are gone, and floors ten and above are badly damaged."

"What about the weapons?"

"Most of them are damaged, but even those that are on-line are strictly in local control. We lost the fire control computer."

"Then we're screwed," said Misa. She sat up painfully, and Vanessa stepped back from her. "We can't launch nukes against it while it's this close to the city, and the rail cannons are bouncing off its hull. We're out of options. Where's Claudia?"

"Injured, Ma'am, and still unconscious."

"This place is going to come down around our ears." She struggled to stand.

"Misa, you've got a head wound! You can't—"

"I can't let the Zentraedi destroy this city," growled Misa. "There's still one weapon system available."

"But without the central computer—"

"One big weapon system," said Misa. "Local control or not, it can stop that ship cold. The reaction cannon on the _Macross._"

* * *

"You bastard!"

Kamjin smirked. "So much for the city's combat capabilities. And my troops are already wreaking havoc in the city below."

Ranma focused her _ki_ again, firing a _mouko takabisha_ at Kamjin, but her confidence was wavering, and the attack was weak; Kamjin brushed it off, then lashed out with a foot towards her. She jumped over the foot, and ran towards the console.

_If I can disable the computers, maybe—_

"Ignore her," said Kamjin. "Whatever Miclone sorcery she has been using, it is obviously exhausted. Target the Inspection Army vessel, and prepare to fire."

_The_ Macross_. They're going to destroy the_ Macross.

* * *

The bridge doors hissed open, and Misa stepped out onto the command deck for the first time in nearly two years.

It was dark. The massive viewport in the front of the Bridge was polarized, and what light did make it through was insufficient to pierce the gloom to the back of the compartment.

But it was enough to illuminate the figure sitting in the center seat.

"About time you ladies got here." Global struck a match, touched it to the bowl of his pipe. "Action stations, please."

* * *

Vibrations shook the streets of Macross City, as once again, _Macross_ rose in its defense.

The ship had never been expected to fly again. Its gravity drive was redlined, but it lifted the ship clear of Hayase Lake, water cascading down its sides. The twin booms of the main gun rotated downwards, pointing towards the Zentraedi warship, parasitic energy crackling between them.

"Main gun capacitor reads full charge."

"Harmonics increasing in gravity drive; I can't keep it up for more than thirty more seconds."

"Supercooling in the main gun is failing rapidly, Captain. I can't keep the fields at full attenuation."

"Hold it together for ten more seconds," growled Global.

"I have a firing solution," yelled Claudia. "Locked in and harmonized."

"Main boom alignment in three more seconds."

"Gravity generator six is about to fail, Captain."

"Alignment match!"

Global leaped to his feet. "Fire!"

A wave of gravitic force leaped out from the gun, towards the Zentraedi ship. But it was at that very moment that a gravity generator failed. The resulting lift imbalance caused the ship to list to starboard. Secondary gravitic waves tore at the _Queadol-Magdomilla_, and it shed alloy plates like a cherry tree shedding petals in a high wind.

But the heart of the beam itself missed.

The gun's alignment field failed; gravitic force fed back into the weapon, shredding the booms. Feedback waves blew out three more gravity generators, and _Macross_ slipped back towards the lake, maimed and disarmed.

And still, Kamjin's ship flew towards it.

* * *

Ranma's eyes slowly opened. She found herself face to face with the Zentraedi warlord.

His face was a mass of blood, bits of some glasslike material embedded in his skin. But his eyes opened, and he still had it in him to smirk.

"I wanted to crush you, Miclone. Your kind killed Lap'Lamiz, took the only good thing I had in my life away from me."

"_I_ killed Lap'Lamiz," she hissed. "An' I still got it in me to take you out too."

"Do you?" Kamjin pushed himself to a seated position. "Then come on, Miclone. Do your worst."

Ranma jumped to her feet, adrenaline covering the fact that she was a mass of bruises, and leaped towards him. She felt the battle rage singing in her, and almost grinned as Kamjin reached out to catch her.

She twisted aside at the last moment, her feet touching the back of his hand, then leaped up to his face level.

She'd never used this technique, never even read the scroll upon which it was recorded. She'd sworn she'd never use it. To nobody but herself, but that was enough. But this..._thing_...had likely killed Misa. Probably Claudia, too, and possibly even Milia. And _that_ was enough to give her the rage, and the focus, to recall it perfectly.

"Demon God Twin Strike!"

Her arms, infused in _ki_, snapped down, and two blades of vacuum slashed towards Kamjin...one into each eye.

He fell backwards, screaming, and she touched down next to him. Her hand came up again, preparing another vacuum blade. One sufficient to cut his throat.

One swing of her hand, and he would be dead.

Just one swing.

_Why can't I do it?_

Kamjin's screams had stopped. His hand covered his eyes, but she still felt as though he were staring at her.

"Go on, Miclone. Finish me off."

She lowered her hand, and shook her head. "No. I ain't killin' you today."

"It's a moot point, Miclone. We will die today anyway."

"What—"

"I've locked us into a collision course with your beloved _Macross_." Even having his eyes torn out wasn't enough to reduce his smirk. "Two hundred more pulses, more or less, before we crash."

Her eyes widened. "Change course. Now!"

"How would I do that? You have taken my eyes."

She was saved from further comment by the downed Zentraedi warleader by the sudden roar of jets. She turned, to see a GERWALK clambering in through the shattered viewport.

"**Yo, Saotome.**" Max's voice boomed out through the external speakers. "**Need a lift?**"

She turned, and ran towards the Icarus' open hand. "Great timin', Max. Grab that sorry piece of shit and let's go."

"**Grab him? Leave him here to die!**"

"No, Max. He's gotta go back with us."

"**For a fair trial? Justice? That sort of thing?**"

"No," said Ranma. "Because he's like a bad goddamn penny. I want him out of circulation once and for all."

* * *

The Icarus broke free of the ship's slipsteam, and angled away from the doomed vessel. From its left fist dangled the disabled Zentraedi; in its right, Ranma watched the ship heading inexorably towards the crippled _Macross_.

Life pods roared away from the _Macross_, each one capable of carrying one person to safety. All came from the bridge deck. She tried to count them, but there was too much happening, too many things to confuse her.

Then the two ships met. The mass of the _Queadol-Magdomilla_ was more than sufficient to crush _Macross_ beneath it, toppling it into Hayase Lake.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the extreme delay in bringing this chapter out. Real life can be a major pain.


End file.
